Last Train Home
by Death Makes An Artist
Summary: 2011 came with a series of new changes for ADA Alexandra Cabot. The least of which was having to share her docket with Casey Novak, an attorney she generally found incompetent and irritating. Casey gets under her skin in what Alex considers the worst kind of way. Little does she know exactly the ride she's in for.
1. Chapter 1

**Last Train Home**

_Hey all! I know… another fic… can I keep up? _

_No. Probably not, but you love me all the same, right? Heh. I promise to finish out HWKT and Intervention. I do. I just don't promise when. I know they're both wrapping up. And, for those of you that follow my A/O fic, that one will be accomplished to the end as well. _

_This one is a request that I've been sitting on for some time. I fell in love with the idea of it, and I really want to do it justice, so I've babied it for a while, researched a little, and tried to figure out what I can get away with in terms of creativity. It all sort of settled into place for me on the last train home tonight. Hopefully, you'll get a few laughs, a few feels, and a few tears because that's my goal. _

_As always, please let me know if I'm accomplishing this. _

_**Chapter One: A Blessing and a Curse**_

"I want a new co-chair," I snapped, no grace and all rage as I walked into Jack McCoy's office with all the humility I could muster – which, at the time, was just about none. "I can't believe you have the nerve to ask me to split my docket with her. She was suspended for a reason, Jack."

DA McCoy has always had a soft spot for me. Even before he was the elected official, he would go out of his way to make me happy. I think it had something to do with the fact that he was a close friend of my uncle's, Judge William Hermann, and was, by proxy, an extended sort of uncle to me. At any rate, he had seen me at my best and at my worst, and that day was not one of my better days.

"Alexandra," he said, his tone starting in on me like I was an unruly child. Some days, I would have agreed with him. My temper has always ruled my head. I just tended to be more diplomatic about my anger management issues than most people did. "Did you even look at her statistics when she was here while you were – away?"

I heard the pause. He had been among those who had truly believed me to be dead while I was in witness protection. I had always felt a little bad, especially when I had seen the hurt in his eyes when I had walked into the DA's office during the prosecution of my attempted homicide. I had truly believed Olivia and Elliot would have told Don and Jack, if no one else. But, they had not. In some ways, I was glad.

"That doesn't excuse her blatant willingness to break the law," I said, my arms folded across my chest.

He eyed me. "You've come close, Alex," he reminded me. "In fact, I would wager you've probably broken the law yourself when it comes to prosecuting. Just because you're more subtle about it does not make her any less an ADA than you. She's dedicated to her job, Alex. That's all."

"No, Jack," I huffed. "I'm dedicated to my job. I bend the law, yes, but I am intelligent enough not to break it." He gave me that classic look of his that said I was lying to myself. I hadn't thought he knew about that, but then again – he was a mysterious man. "Brady rules, McCoy. Brady rules. What half-witted attorney can't get those right?"

"Did you ask her why she did it?" he suggested, leaning back in his seat.

I shook my head. "I don't need to."

"So, you have no idea if she's half-witted or not."

I fumed at him, glaring at him with icy daggers in my eyes. And, I knew I looked scary. But, good old Uncle Jack knew this Ice Queen too well.

"My office, Alex. My decisions. Don't like them, go work for another county."

Pursing my lips, I pondered if looks really could kill. They couldn't. I tried. Jack did not have a heart attack and die. He knew I would never leave the Manhattan District Attorney's Office for very long if I didn't have to. My heart and soul were here. I had dreamed my whole life of working in this very office while nursing a political career. I hated that he did that to me. I hated that he acted like he could so easily dismiss me. "Maybe I will."

He called my bluff. "We both know you won't do that, but if you like, I could accept your two weeks."

"No," I said with a sigh.

"You don't have to like her, Alex, but you do have to work with her."

It took everything I had not to slam his office door on the way out. I did, however, lock mine on my return. Not even five seconds later, a light knock on my door told me it was not my secretary looking for me. Marla had been my secretary for years. Minus the break of me being in Witness Protection when she had been Casey Novak's secretary. She had been shuffled over to the Special Victims Unit because no one else would take it. She had turned into my greatest asset when I was working, though. If I needed something, I had but to call, text, or email, and I would get it. She was my lifeline if ever I had one. But, she was also firm. My senior by at least twenty years, she had no problem putting me in my place. Maybe that was why I liked her.

No, this knock was quiet, hurried, nervous. Whoever was on the other side really did not want to talk to me. "Yes?" I barked.

"Can I come in?" the object of my frustrations called through the heavy oak door. The bonus about returning from Witness Protection was that I got my old office back with my old leather couch and my old oak desk and my lamps and my books, less my old statute books and more the newer versions. I was a senior ADA which meant I got choice pick, and although McCoy had hired Casey Novak back as a senior ADA, she was still below me. She got my hand me downs by way of library and legal material. I hated to feel superior about that because it was really a disadvantage for both of us that she had to keep borrowing my statute books, but in my rage that I had to put up with her, I needed something to grasp on to. Later, I could be ashamed that I had stooped to that.

"What do you need?" I called back, neither inviting her in nor sending her away.

I could see her out there, in my mind's eye, chewing at her lower lip. It was a habit I noticed she had when around me. She hadn't been like that when she had been the prosecutor on my attempted homicide case. In fact, I had believed her to be at least competent despite not really being likeable during that case. She needed obvious guidance. But, following her suspension, every time she saw me, she looked down and bit her lip. I half expected her to apologize to me for letting the office down the way she had. Not only that, but I felt personally attacked by it because it was my position she had sullied. I had been assigned to Sex Crimes to clean up the police portion of the unit. And, I thought I had done a good job of that. In her years as prosecutor plus those months following before I was freed from Marshal custody, the unit had successfully gone to Hell again. I resented her for that.

"Can I staff a case with you?" she asked me. I could hear the hurt in her voice, and I cringed.

Sighing, I turned my computer on with a hard jam of the power button and ran my fingers through my hair, pulling slightly. It helped to relieve a little of the frustration I felt. "Now? I'm a little preoccupied."

"Sorry," she said. "I'll come back later."

I did not hear her leave, but she must have because silence followed for a good five minutes while I tried to unwind my tension. I would staff it with her later. She needed more than a hand with most of her work, and I had to admit, I was a little peeved that she needed so much work for the recommendation she came with. Outside of her Brady violation, all reports indicated she was a good attorney. If I were honest, my fear was that her disregard for legal rulings would lead to more messes than clean ups, and I would have to swoop in and handle not only my cases but fix hers as well. I did not have the time for that.

A firm knock on my door told me that I probably wanted to answer this one. Still, I ignored it for a moment. "Alexandra Victoria Cabot," Marla's stern voice always had a way of carrying completely through the door. And, down the hall. Possibly through the elevator. "You open this door right now because I promise you that what I have to say is not something you want the rest of the office to hear."

I did because she would have the conversation through the door, and the entire floor would know by that afternoon how thoroughly I had been scolded by my secretary. The floor seemed to know anyway, but, nevertheless, they did not need to know what I had been told off for. "What?" I snapped, my anger refueling as I opened the door.

She came in, shutting the door behind her. "Don't you think you're a little old for this?" I eyed her strangely as I crossed my arms over my chest. "Temper tantrums, Alex. You're forty years old for Christ's sake, not three."

"I'm not having a tantrum. She really is too incompetent for this unit."

"She would give her world for the victims, Alex. She's not unlike you. Give the girl a chance. You think you're Miss Big Shot Attorney, then fine. Give her a guiding hand. She's younger than you, Alex."

"Not that much. If she were fresh out of misdo court, then, yes, I would have patience. She's incompetent," I retorted. "Maybe McCoy should have started her back in misdos. At least, then, she would re-earn her right."

"Is that what that is to you?" Marla asked me, her hands on her hips as she looked down her nose at me. On top of being my senior in age, she was actually an inch taller than me, despite being in her sixties, and she used that small height advantage often enough that she had long since learned how to make me feel about three inches tall. "You think she didn't earn her right to be here? Who else in this office would you staff, Alex? Because, I'll tell you what, no one else wants to be here. This unit is dirty. It gives nightmares unlike even the homicide unit. People do not have the reserve to last in this unit. Only you and Casey have. That should tell you something about her. "

I shook my head. "She's got no nerve. Maybe she had talent once," I agreed with a sigh as I sat down at my desk. "But, it was a stupid Brady violation. She knows she fucked that up royally, and she's lost her nerve. She has no drive. I mean, Marla, do you hear the way she knocks on my door."

"You intimidate her."

"That's my point exactly. If I intimidate her, how can I trust her not to lose her cool up against some of these defense attorneys, Marla? If a defendant walks because she can't keep it together, then the defendant gets to rape one more woman – probably far more than that – before we get another crack at him. The opportunity for justice is lost."

Marla shook her head. "Give her a fair chance, Alex. Like the chance you asked Abbie to give to you."

"I was twenty six, Marla. I was green. I was fresh out of misdo court."

"Not everyone advances like you do, Alex. She's gone about ten steps back since she worked this unit solo. Show a little confidence in her, and she'll start to show confidence in herself. You forget, Alex, I was her secretary, too. I know her the same way I know you."

"That's terrifying," I scoffed. "Fine. If. If, Marla, and don't you go suggesting to her anything. If she comes to me and asks, I'll grant it."

"You know, the best doers become educators," she said with a small smile. It was a victory for her. I had conceded to her whim, though that was usually the case. I might have had the hotter temper, but she was more stubborn than a mule. If Marla wanted something, talk about getting it. Why she had never pursued a job beyond secretarial work was beyond me.

"She's five years younger than me, by the way," I said. "That's not a lot. I was in Witness Protection for three years. She was suspended for three years. I didn't lose my nerve."

"You lost something, Alex," she said. "And, whatever it was, you didn't find it in the ICC, Appeals, or Homicide."

I bit my lip as she walked out. Yes, she had made me feel tiny. Three inches tall was too high at that point, and I collapsed onto my couch with a sigh as she closed the door behind her. I had bounced around between Special Victims, Homicide, and the Appeals Courts for four years. Marla was right. I had lost something. I had lost my place. I had not wanted to return to SVU with the memories I had, so I had tried homicide, but I could not sit still. I had lost my fiancé there because I had needed someone stable but had been so unstable myself. I had applied to work appeals, moved upstate, and found myself a really good therapist. I liked to think I was doing better, but maybe Marla was right. Maybe I had lost something, too, in the trauma I had felt.

Still, Casey was not injured pursuing a case. She had been censured by the bar because she had lied to a judge and violated Brady rules. That wasn't exactly traumatic. It was stupid. It was overzealous. It was arrogant.

Regardless of my personal opinion, though, Marla had a point. I still had a professional obligation to my unit, and that meant that I needed to give Casey whatever guidance I could. Calming down as much as I could, which did not say too much considering my temper had been on edge since returning from the International Criminal Court, I pattered over to her office, my own law books in hand.

"Casey?" I queried, peering into her office. "Do you still need to staff that case?"

The red head looked up from her desk. She had a habit of working in the dark that I did not understand. My office was dim, but the only light in hers was from her computer. It cast an eerie glow over her already too pale skin, and I fought the urge to wrinkle my nose. It was not so much that I found her physically unappealing, but I worried about how pale she was sometimes. There was no way she was healthy. She nodded at me, her eyes both fierce and apologetic. It was like she was divided between two ideas of herself, and she could not figure out which one to be. That was bad. It spelled a world of trouble, and I did cringe.

"Which case?" I asked, flicking on her lights. She blinked rapidly, as though I had just shined a megawatt bulb directly into her eyes. "Why are you always in the dark?"

She shrugged. "Easier on my eyes," she murmured, looking away. I dismissed her easy answer without saying anything. Honestly, I did not want to ask. I didn't want to know. I didn't care. "It's the Morgan case. I'm running into a few dead ends here."

I was familiar with the case. Sarah Morgan, a six year old little girl, was found dead behind a dumpster during the winter months. Initially, police had assumed no foul play, that she had frozen to death by accident. But, when she did not come up in the missing persons database, the medical examiner took a close look at her. Evidence suggested long term sexual abuse. And, further investigation by the squad showed that she did not have a birth certificate. She had been Jane Doe until we had found her birth mother through a DNA test. The birth mother was dead, though. She was a cold case in homicide.

"What dead ends?" I asked, skeptical. The detectives we regularly worked with had picked up a suspect in her death shortly after the M.E. ruled it a homicide stating that the girl had been poisoned with anti-freeze in a quantity that was more than enough to kill and far more than a little girl with otherwise normal characteristics would ingest accidentally. The guy, a Fred Markson, had all but confessed to her murder, though the defense attorney was now claiming that statement had been given under duress. I hated when defenders threw that word around, but I still could not see why Casey was having such a hang up.

I watched her wring her hands. Sighing, I leaned back in the chair. "Casey, this one's pretty straightforward. How did you mess it up?"

"Why did you assume I messed it up?"

I just gave her a sharp look. "Did you?"

She shook her head. "No. I just-" She looked at me, suddenly, her brow furrowed, and sighed. "You know what, never mind. Forget I asked. I have to be in court in fifteen minutes. Excuse me."

Casey Novak had the audacity to leave me sitting in her office after she had asked for a staffing. I sighed and contemplated returning to my own office and locking the door again. I did not have the patience for her. I found myself wanting her to screw up again so that I could ask McCoy to fire her. Chances were, he'd have my job for not helping her as well. I would have to play the field there.

Truth be told, I did not want to see her fired. I just did not want her on such a specialized docket. I had not been kidding when I thought that she needed to go back to misdemeanor court and start fresh. Maybe it would remind her how important the seemingly small things were.

Still, she had left her Morgan case file on her desk, and I picked it up, opting for a little light reading. How badly could she have mucked it up, anyway? Nothing I couldn't fix, surely. I glanced through her notes on the case. The last hearing was a motions hearing. People's motion to include human services records granted. Defense motion to reconsider bail denied. Defense motion requesting additional discovery granted. There were a handful of other standard motions to the case, none of which the outcomes surprised or vexed me. I saw nothing in her notes that indicated she had messed up.

My second task was to peddle through her emails with the defense attorney. Had she offered something she regretted? Had she forced a trial? I did not mind trials. In fact, a large part of me wanted this to go to trial. I wanted him to walk away with nothing less than a Class A first degree murder conviction if not several sexual assault – child convictions as well. Everything about what I leafed through, though, seemed to me to be very much on task with where I expected the case to be. I read through her denied motions to see if and what I would have written differently. There were some changes that I would have made, but none that I could say with certainty would have changed the outcome of the motions.

I didn't understand it. I didn't understand her. The three months we had been working together, I just didn't get it. She would be so fierce one moment and so needy the next. Independent and then flustered. More than once, I had caught her fleeing to the bathroom to vomit after a hearing. I had asked a couple of times if she was alright, but she had dismissed me every time. Two moody women in Special Victims did not bode well for our professional relationship.

Sighing, I took the file with me to her office. I knew it would force a conversation later, but I wanted a straight answer from her. I had to know if she thought she could hack it. Because, if she couldn't, I was going to ask her to resign.

So, maybe I was taking the file with me knowing full well it would force an argument. It probably was not fair of me. Between the two of us in a verbal argument, I would easily have the upper hand. She was not as good as I was, and I did not mean that to gloat. She simply was not. There were attorneys better than me. There were a lot of attorneys better than me. Casey Novak was not one of them. She gave me a run for my money. If she were a defense attorney, she would be amusing. But, she could not hold her own against me for long. I knew it. She knew it. Most defense attorneys knew it.

So, when that argument came around, I was ready for it. She slunk into my office looking worn out and tired, her hands draped on the couch. I raised my brow. "Did you get a chance to look over everything?" she asked me, her voice not calm but not angry either. She was nervous.

"I don't know why you feel like you're having trouble," I began, trying to be civil about it.

She shook her head. "I'm second guessing my every move right now, Alex," she admitted. "I just – am I headed the right direction on this?"

"Let me be so cliché as to answer your question with a question – why do you feel like you're bound to mess things up?"

"I've messed things up before," she said, sucking her lower lip into her mouth. "Pretty bad. I let a monster go free. I can't do it again."

"You can't be so nervous. You need to have confidence in what you are doing, Casey, or you don't need to be doing it."

She nodded, hugging herself. I swore she looked paler than she had earlier that day. "Yea, maybe. I have a meeting this afternoon. You don't need me for anything, do you?" I shook my head. "Okay. Can I have my file back?"

I handed her the file, not sure how I felt about our little exchange. She had rolled over for me. She had tucked her tail between her legs and rolled over. It felt somehow wrong. I don't think I'm a bitch. Harsh, maybe. Cold, yes. But, a bitch? No. I have feelings. I do. And, it saddened me that she did not respond to my anger except with hesitation and the makings of fear. In a way, it was good to know she feared me. In a way, it made me feel like a terrible person that my coworker thought of me that way. I was a fearsome woman, but not someone she needed to be afraid of.

"Casey," I said on her way out.

She paused, her hand barely touching the wooden door frame. "Yea?"

"Why don't I cover your docket tomorrow? You look sick. Take the day and rest up."

She nodded. "Okay. I might. Thank you."

"Casey," I said again, stopping her a second time. She paused and looked at me but said nothing. "I know a good therapist in the New York area you could talk to if these cases are getting to be too much."

"I'm fine," she said. "Just coming down with a Spring cold."

"Okay," I said.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Chapter Two: Anger Management_**

With a heavy sigh, I stared down at my drink, swilling the whiskey around in the glass. I'm not usually much of a drinker, but after the day I had, I was able to justify having more than one shot. It wasn't heinous. It was more of a trying day, as though the world were conspiring to get on my last nerve. At nine fifteen this morning, I received a text message from Casey telling me one of her cases had been dismissed on a Rule 12(b) evidentiary hearing.

That had erupted into an argument in my office about her hasty filing. She had argued that the detectives had not left her with much choice. I told her 'then, next time, pick a charge that will stick.' I also laid into the detectives. Olivia had been the most defensive there. She and I actually had a yelling match which happened between us, but not with regularity. It involved her accusing Casey of not caring enough about the cases or the victims any longer and accusing my office of backing off for political reasons under the tail end of McCoy's term limit. She said I had gone soft, too, because of it. That had erupted in a whole new sort of rage for me. I could see her laying into Casey, fine. She was wild and reckless. I could see her laying into the office. I did, too. I hated those last two years when a DA was termed up. I always thought they should be more aggressive, but for as long as I had worked in the office, they had been the liberal years. But, to accuse me of bending to the will of my office was low, even for Olivia. I had always done my own thing. I had gone against the DA in pursuit of a case more than once, and I had risked my job for it.

"Can I sit?" a voice asked from behind me. I turned to see Casey standing there, her hands in front of her, but she did not look nervous. It was a first. Usually, she was around me. Nodding, I gestured to the empty seat. I was not going to tell her to leave me alone despite not really being in the mood to talk.

Fortunately, she seemed to be in tune with at least that because she did not say anything beyond ordering a drink from the bar tender. Like me, I had learned, she was a whiskey drinker. She had a couple of drinks, paid, and then left without another word to me, though I wasn't stupid. I knew she had come in with the intent to tell me something. She had lost her nerve. She had not wanted to start another fight.

Resolving to keep my cool, I paid my own tab and followed her out, catching up to her before a taxi did. "Casey, we need to talk about Hendrix," I said. I saw her flinch, and that made me sad. I did not want my coworker to be afraid of me. I just wanted her to be a little less reckless, to understand that she had to be more conservative if she wanted to get back into the game. Reckless might work in White Collar, but it did not in Special Victims. In fact, any violent crimes, it just did not work in. These were the people the public wanted hidden away forever. Some people wanted them hidden away so badly that they flat pretended their crimes did not exist. Rape was the fault of the raped because if it was the victim's fault, then maybe the juror would never be a victim. If she could just do it better. It was our job to educate people differently. Every case was a unique opportunity for us to teach the public that there would never be an excuse for rape.

We could not educate people if we were too loose with our own standards, if perpetrators could walk.

"I'm sorry," Casey said.

I nodded. "I know. Catch a cab with me?"

She hesitated, then nodded, hailing a taxi with practiced ease. We both stepped into the back seat, and I gave the cabbie the address to an all-night diner that I knew would still be less crowded. It was only midnight. It tended to get crowded once the bars let out and the drunks wanted some food. Until then, we would basically have the place to ourselves. "I want to tell you what you did right in that, Casey. I read the file."

Casey bit her lip and stared hard at her hands. "Alex, don't. I know I messed up. I know I should have charged him with a lesser offense and added the higher offense once we had the evidence. I jumped the gun and the victims paid the price."

"Yes, but you didn't drop the whole thing, Casey. It's good to know what you can do better, but it's also good to know what you did right so you can continue doing it."

"Why is it that you can make me feel like an intern all over again?"

I raised my brow at her. I did not entertain that with an answer. I thought that what I had to say would be too harsh, and I tended to try not to lie in order sugar coat things unless there was clear benefit from doing so. "Are you ever going to let me tell you what you did right?" I asked, instead.

She nodded, folding her hands in her lap.

I managed to maintain my cool as I broke down the case for her, separating the good from the bad as clearly and cleanly as I could both on the remainder of the ride over to the diner and as we munched on a shared basket of French fries and jalapeño poppers. She asked questions, and when she did, I gave her the best answers I had from my experience and my learning. I tried to take the advice Marla had given me about how to handle her. Marla had one thing right. She had been Casey's go to for work for some time, and she knew her better than I knew her.

By the end of the night, I managed to coax a smile from her. I didn't have to like her, but she needed to trust me as the senior attorney in the unit, and I needed to know I could leave her alone with a case. That meant I needed to teach her what she did not know. I could tell she had a lot of potential. She might have been dynamite at one time. But, as I felt her out that night, I could sense she had been broken. She had been reckless before, but reckless and confident was utterly different than reckless and vulnerable. I still did not like that she was reckless, but it was made more telling and more painful because she was so easily scalded.

"Do you still really want to be a lawyer?" I asked her near the end of the night.

She gave me a strange look. "Of course I do. If I didn't, I wouldn't have come back. Not here. Not after I embarrassed myself."

I just shook my head.

"Why?"

"I just wonder," I answered with a sigh.

"I know you don't think I'm good enough, Alex," she said, giving me this lost kitten look. "But, are you really questioning my dedication?"

I bit my lip. "I'm not sure if you came back for that or if you came back because it's familiar."

"I'm on a two year probationary period, Alex. I could lose my job again at the drop of a hat. I'm surprised McCoy didn't fire me for losing the Hendrix case. I expected a note on my door."

"It was a rookie mistake, Casey. I'll give you that, but I don't think he would have hired you if he didn't see something. I'm not sure what, yet, but I have to trust him."

She shook her head. "You know, my entire SVU career, I've struggled to live up to you and everything you could do, all your connections, all your everything. I've consistently fallen short of the Great Alexandra Cabot. You know what, though? You're not all that great. You're a good attorney. You're a good teacher. I know I can learn a lot from you there. But, as a person, you kind of suck." I stared at her without blinking as I wrapped my head around what she was saying. "When you say cruel things, do you say them just to be mean?"

I opened my mouth to answer and then closed it again. "I don't say cruel things," I protested. I had never thought of myself as mean, but the way she was looking at me made me think I was some kind of school yard bully. I sighed. "I don't mean to, Casey. You frustrate me. I can't figure out your motives. One minute, you're dominating the court room. The next, you're like a whipped puppy. I mean it, Casey. Whatever you're going through, a therapist might not be a bad idea."

"You don't like me. I get it. I mean, I was your replacement when you didn't want to leave. And, now, you have to work with me. I'm sorry I'm not as intelligent or well-connected as you are. I'm sorry I'm not as perfect at this whole thing as you are. If I could be, I would be. But, never underestimate my dedication to this squad, my desire to do right by it. I may never live up to your standards, but I will and I do work my ass off to be better on the next case than I was on the last." She stood up, tossing ten dollars on the table, and stormed out.

I considered following her, but I figured that maybe it was good we had at least established that. Casey knew I didn't like her. She knew I didn't think she was a good attorney. Maybe I wouldn't have to play teacher. I almost wanted to ask Jack if I could have her cases back. After Hendrix, I thought he might give me at least some of them.

And, that was precisely my request the next day. "Jack," I said, sitting in his office. "I don't know. It's been over three months since we started working together and a week since you told me you wanted her there, but I just don't see it. She's dangerous."

"In what way?"

"She's in over her head. McCoy, I'm trying to be a reasonable human about this, but she's railroading her cases. Give them back to me. Let me give them to her a few at a time. Maybe some straightforward ones to start. You know, she's having trouble with the Morgan case."

"The murdered six year old?" I nodded. "Why?"

I looked at him. "I have no idea. I can't figure that out."

"Did you ask her?"

I pursed my lips. "What's with that new thing of yours?" I asked. "Ask her about why she violated Brady. Ask her why she can't pursue an easy conviction. The answer's not important, Jack. If she can't do it, she doesn't need to do it."

"Fine," the man answered. "You be her supervisor, then. Pull all of her cases except Morgan. However, if I give you this, then you have to help her on those cases you do give her. And, Alexandra, help her. Don't brush her off. You want an attorney working with you who knows what you do, you have to give up that knowledge."

That was going to be a fun conversation. "Fine," I mumbled. "I want you to seriously consider my feedback of her on these cases, though. She's dragged this office through the mud once. I don't want it to happen again."

Jack looked at me. "I will. But, Alex, you're being too hard on her. You're being too hard on yourself. Cool your temper, and you might actually find she's capable of doing her job."

Sighing, I stood up. "I have a conversation to have with Casey, and she's not going to like it."

McCoy raised his eyebrows and looked at me. "Don't make me regret putting you two together, Alex. Of the attorneys that unit has seen, you and Casey are easily my best. If you can't figure out how to work together, I'm going to reassign both of you." He paused, looking at me to make sure I really understood him. "And, Alex, since you asked for the responsibility, I'm holding you just as accountable for her mistakes as I will her."

I bit the inside of my cheek. Jack McCoy always knew how to make me eat my words. And my anger. He had since I was a child. Still, I was not one to back down from a challenge, and challenge me was exactly what he was doing. "I would expect nothing less, Jack."

As I predicted, Casey did not take me stripping her too well. I think the term she used was power hungry bitch. Her anger did not last too long, though, because she excused me from her office under no uncertain terms. I told her that the Morgan case was still hers and suggested she focus all of her time into overcoming whatever obstacle it was that she had run up on but could not explain.

"You really think that was the right move?" Marla asked of me in my office later that afternoon. "I heard you've more than doubled your case load. Alex, that's going to stress you out too much. The point of having-"

"Marla, I know. I know all the repercussions, okay? I just don't trust her."

"Because you don't think she's good enough? Don't you think you're being a little too arrogant, Cabot?"

"She's not good enough."

"And you are?"

"No," I snapped. "And, that's my point."

Marla looked at me and shook her head. "Pity you're too old to be put in timeout any more, Alex."

I huffed, but I said nothing as she walked away. If I were honest with myself, my fuse was probably shorter than usual. I think I resented having to share what had so long been my docket. I didn't blame Jack. I came. I left. I came back again. Ultimately, I left again. I felt bad for the unit. It had zero consistency, and I think I hated that, too. I hated that I could not provide it. I hated that Casey refused to provide it. It was rare that I felt powerless and out of control. The last time had been when I had been shot, though there was a degree of chaos to my order the entire time I was in Witness Protection. I had accused Casey of acting vulnerable when that was how I felt, too.

I left work early that day to stop by the squad room and give the detectives a heads up that all requests, even for the Morgan case, were to go through me. My explanation as to why was simply that I was supervising Casey until her probationary period was over. Olivia was the only one with a retort, and she thought the whole office needed supervising.

She had stalked off. I had moved to follow, but Don had stopped me. "Don't, Alex. She'll come around. She's just angry. Can you blame her?"

"We're all a little on edge, Captain. Call me if you need anything."

"Alex," he said, stopping me with a hand on my arm. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yea," I said, nodding my head. "Just need to get things straightened out." I flashed him a smile and I left, my attaché in hand. I had no intentions of returning to the office that evening despite my habit for working late most nights.

Instead, I went to the diner I had taken Casey to the previous night and ordered a basket of cheese covered fries. I picked at them as I caught myself up to speed on her cases. I was so engrossed in my reading that I did not notice that I had company until one of my fries started moving of its own accord. "Hey," I snapped.

"Sorry," Casey said as she dropped the morsel back on my plate. "I've been saying your name for the past five minutes. I wasn't sure how else to get your attention."

"What do you want?" I asked with a sigh. It wasn't so much that I did not want her there. I just did not want any company from anyone. I liked my solitude. And, I was exhausted. "I didn't mean it like that, Casey. I just mean – what can I do for you?"

Casey shrugged. "Nothing," she answered. "I just figured you would take the files somewhere to read them. Was wondering if you had questions on any of them."

"No," I said, my tone curt. "I do not."

"I do," Casey murmured, her brows raised to challenge me.

"Okay," I said, completely aware that she was not likely talking about the case files. "Ask."

"Why do you hate me? You said last night it was because I frustrated you, but that's not it, is it?" She picked up one of my French fries and ate it.

Shaking my head, I moved the plate further from her. She could still reach it, yes, but I hoped she would get my point. "I don't hate you," I protested. "I just don't like you."

"Have it your way, Alex. Why don't you like me?"

"You don't take this seriously enough. I've looked at your past cases. You plead cases I don't think you should have. You're just too liberal about this. You can't be liberal with rapists, Casey. They have hundreds of victims who never step forward because they're afraid – afraid that the system can't help them. Or won't help them. All you do is prove them right when you offer worthless pleas."

"I want to help the victims, Alex, but I won't punish people by ineffective means if there's something better for them. What good is putting a rapist away for ten years when, in five years, he's going to get out again and do the same thing?"

I shook my head. "That's what I don't understand, Casey. It's five years he's not hurting anyone. Isn't that better than nothing?"

"But, what if a mental health facility is better, Alex?" Casey asked. "The mentally ill are sorely underrepresented. They often commit crimes without knowing the difference. I pled one defendant to a mental health facility because he was acting on schizophrenic tendencies. With medication, those urges were curbed. As long as he's medicated, he can now live a normal life without being dangerous to anyone. Isn't a lifetime of no more victims for him better than five years of no more?"

I frowned. "That's one, Casey. That's not all of them."

"I know, but one less victim, one less woman who has to have that nightmare. Isn't that worth something?" She reached over and pulled my plate between the two of us. I glowered at her. I had decided after I found out about her censure that I no longer liked her. Maybe that was unfair, but I was really bad at letting go of certain things. "These French fries are all possible victims, okay?"

I nodded, not sure where she was going with this, but willing to saddle up for the ride anyway. "Okay."

"The cheese covered fries are victims of sexual assault. But, it's only the top fries that are covered, so, let's say they're the women and men who step forward and come to us, that we prosecute their assailants." I nodded to show I was still following. "Occasionally, some of the cheese still slips through the cracks and affects other fries. But, most of the cheese affects only those fries."

"Okay," I said. "I get it. I do understand what you're saying, but let's say that a fry knows the system won't punish his or her offender and doesn't come forward." I picked up the fry and moved it out of the pile, the cheese sliding off and onto the fries below. "That's why I want to be a hard ass about it. One less victim coming forward means four more victims that otherwise would not have been."

She sighed. "Do you really think being a hard ass is going to get victims to trust the system?"

"When they see how we handle it, yes."

"And, how do we handle it, Alex?"

I scoffed. "You, not so well."

"Maybe not right now, but before, when I was doing this on my own, I did well. And, to be honest, you're not handling these things so well yourself." I glared at her. "I'm not saying you're incompetent, Alex, by any means. But, you're so hard on the victims."

"And you're not?" I scoffed. "I'm sorry. Who yelled at a victim in the squad room the other day? Because it sure as shit was not me, Casey."

She ran her nails through her hair and stared out the window. "Not my best moment, I'll admit. We've both made mistakes like that, though."

"You more recently than I," I mumbled.

"That's what it is. I'm making mistakes now that you're above. Because you're above them, because you made these mistakes when you were younger –"

"I was twenty seven, Casey," I snapped. "And, yes, it's been a weight on my shoulders ever since. I made SVU young, maybe too young, but I've grown on my experiences. I'm not perfect. But I learned."

"I was twenty nine when I was given Special Victims, Alex. I was still in law school when you were assigned. Has it even occurred to you that you were trained for SVU by another ADA and I was trained by four detectives who resented me for replacing you? My learning curve has been a lot longer, and I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. If I could be great at this, I would. But, the honest truth is I care too much. I want too badly to make the hurt stop. I hate looking into another person's eyes and seeing that kind of pain. I can't just walk away from all of this. I thought, when Branch assigned me, that he had made a huge mistake. It turned out, it was exactly my place here."

For perhaps the first time in my life, I took Jack McCoy's advice on something that did not have to do with my prosecuting a case. "Then, why the Brady rule violation? You had to know you would be caught."

"Perhaps," she muttered. "I knew I'd be punished. I just didn't think I'd be censured. I had bent the laws before. That was the first time I had outright broken them. I should have known it would be more severe than a glare from an irate judge. I had no idea that three years censure would be the beginning of my punishment. None of the judges trust me. The defense attorneys think they can exploit me. And, my partner on the prosecution team thinks I'm a buffoon with a miracle law degree. And, I can't blame any of them for thinking the way they do."

I bit my lip. My heart went out to her a little. She was so wrapped up in what it meant to do right by the victims, she had forgotten the constraints of the law. I sighed. "Take the Morgan case, Casey," I instructed. "When you close it out, you and I will sit down and look over it. Since you'll have some down time between hearings, you'll come sit co-chair in my hearings and trials. Prove to me you're not a buffoon with a miracle law degree. Show me what I missed while I was busy being someone else."

Casey smiled up at me, her emerald green eyes peeping up at me through a stray lap of her red hair. "I will," she said. "Thank you."

I had promised Marla that if Casey Novak asked me for the chance, I would give her the chance. She had asked. So, here went, well, everything.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I'm glad everyone seems to be enjoying this so far. I hope it continues. I can't promise being able to update this as frequently as these first two days. I've been trapped home in bed, so it's been easy to find time to write. I've got HWKT's next chapter started as well as Intervention. I hope to have those up early next week. My weekend's pretty busy, but I'll try to update something then, too.  
_

_Happy Friday, all. _

_DMAA  
_

**_Chapter Three: The Glass Eye of Solomon_**

"Objection, relevance," I said, standing in a rush.

The defense attorney glared at me. "It goes to the state of mind of the alleged victim while she was at the bar that night," the defense attorney said.

"What she was or was not doing at the bar has no impact on the defendant's choice to sexually assault her," I barked.

"If the victim was there with the intent to pick up a one night-"

"Rape Shield," I snapped, staring hotly at the public defender on the case. "Your Honor, the defense counselor is intentionally attempting to mar the jury against the victim by insinuations which clearly violate Rape Shield laws implemented in nineteen ninety four."

"Approach," the judge barked at both of us. We stepped forward, our voices going to a hush. "I'm inclined to agree with Miss Cabot on this one, counselor. You should know better."

"Your Honor," the defense attorney argued, "Rape Shield does not apply to the supposed victim's intent in going out for the night. Only his or her past sexual events."

"That's an incredibly fine line to attempt to draw," I retorted. "Whether or not the victim in this case intended to do anything at the bar that night still has no relevance on the defendant's choice in his own actions. Rape Shield or not, relevance is still the issue."

"Defense would assert the encounter to be consensual, that the supposed victim picked up Mr. Gold at the bar, they proceeded to have sex, and she later made false allegations about him to the police. Her state of mind when entering the bar as well as statements she made to other people at the bar are absolutely relevant to the defense's assertion that the sex was consensual."

I wrinkled my nose. I did not like where he was headed with this. And, I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that the judge was going to side with him if I didn't come up with something, and fast. "Statements made to other people would constitute hearsay which is another objection entirely," I said, buying myself an ounce of time, the perfect amount for my brain to catch up with the trial. "If the court would like to entertain that at this time, we could entertain all possible objections to be made."

"Miss Cabot."

I bit my lip. "Fine. I'll concede to state of mind of the victim as testified to by the victim provided that the question clearly requests state of mind."

"That is not so unreasonable a request. I'm inclined to uphold. Be specific, Counselor."

He nodded. I nodded. And, we both stepped back from the bench. I sat down again beside Casey, my eyes still on the poor woman on the stand. She looked about to cry. "You need a break?" I mouthed to her. She nodded, giving me wide, terrified eyes.

"Your Honor, may I request that we recess at this time for a short break?"

The judge glanced over the Melody as she quivered on the stand and nodded. "Alright. We'll recess for fifteen minutes. Will that be enough time?"

Melody nodded.

"Yes, Your Honor. Thank you." I bowed my head briefly before standing, Casey at my side as the jury was escorted out by the bailiff.

Immediately after, I stepped up to Melody and held out her hand as she stepped off the stand. "Do you want to go sit down in the conference room?"

"Yea," she mumbled, clutching at my shirt. I glanced up to detectives Olivia Benson and John Munch, the two investigating detectives in the case. "Okay. Mel, Detectives Munch and Benson will take you there. Casey and I will be in in a minute."

"Okay," she said. "Um, can he really, can he really ask me about sleeping with other men? It makes me sound like such a whore."

"You're not a whore," I whispered quickly. "And, no, not quite. We'll explain it in the conference room, okay?"

"Thank you."

Casey said nothing as she stared at me, her lower lip drawn between her teeth. I had learned in the past month since she had started becoming my shadow that the look was strictly reserved for me. She no longer bit her lip in public except when she was deep in thought. But, the way she bit her lip then, when we were the last two in the court room was not a look of thought. I had not yet figured out what it was, but it was rare, even for me to see.

"You alright?" I asked.

"Fine," she answered, nodding her head. She was pale, though, and I could see the bags under her eyes despite the makeup she used to cover it. Sleep had not been her gift of late.

Shaking my head, I reached forward on instinct but pulled my hand back. I was going to brush her hair from her eyes, but that would have been inappropriate. "Casey, you can't do very well if you don't sleep. When was the last time you did."

She opened her mouth.

I held up a finger. "Don't lie to me, Novak."

Sighing, she shook her head listlessly. "It's been a couple of days. Alex, it's not important. It's not like it's unusual. I'm a bit of a, an insomniac."

"I thought you like the dark," I mumbled. "Would have thought you slept pretty well."

She blushed and looked away. "Why do you do that?" she asked me.

"What?" I asked.

"Take something I divulge and use it against me. I won't talk to you if my every word will be used as a weapon." She frowned. "Though, I imagine you would find it possible to use my silence against me. Can we just get through this case? Melody looked distraught. I just – she needs someone right now, and you kind of promised her she could lean on you."

Tongue in cheek, I sighed. "I'm sorry, Casey. I shouldn't have said what I did. I'm angry because I nearly lost argument up there with the judge. Taking it out on you was unfair." I frowned. I had been trying to listen to those consciences in my life, read Marla, but it was difficult. I was not accustomed to doing the things she often got on my case about, but I trusted her sense of judgment well enough to know that she likely would not lead me astray. Not when it came to dealing with Casey.

And, after a month, I still did not like her, but at least I had improved from wanting her fired to just wanting her transferred to a different unit.

I said nothing to her the rest of the afternoon we spent in court. We recessed until the following day mid-testimony from a psychologist testifying for the People. Melody had done well. I did not think my concession to her being able to talk about why she wanted to go to the bar after work that night damaged anything. In fact, she had very successfully made the defense counselor look like an idiot. She was a feisty one. I had to give her that.

As Casey and I cleared the court house steps, I turned to address her, surprised to find she was already ready to lay into me. "I can't believe you do that," she snapped. "What gives you the right? You think I'm moody and dysfunctional? Look at you. All caring and concerned one moment, and the next, it's all just an act so you get to say something snide. Seriously, Alex, did you have friends at all growing up? Or did something make you this mean?"

She bit her lower lip again in that way, and I halted mid-stride. "No. Stop it," I said angrily. "Stop with the lip bity thing and the innocent baby calf being led to slaughter thing. We both know you're more cunning than that. You're like a snake, Casey. At least we've established how I feel about you. I don't like you, and I don't want you in this unit. You. I have no idea what your angle is. One minute, you're eager to learn. The next, you're sullen. Then, bam, it's like I have to watch my back."

"Oh, so you're the better person because you've told me you're willing to stab me in the back," she spat. "I heard stories about you from the detectives, from Abbie and Branch. The things they said about you was why I was so scared to go into SVU in the first place. I could never fill your shoes. But, I was determined to do my best. I could never fit your position perfectly, but the legacy you left behind was something better to strive to be. Now that I've worked with you for four months, Alex, you're an ass. You're an arrogant, social diva who believes everyone you don't already care for is beneath you. You're incredibly intelligent, and if someone else is not as smart as you, they're not worth your time."

"I didn't leave behind a legacy," I answered. "I left behind a family, people who cared for me. And, then, you waltzed in to try to replace me. Forgive me if I have some issues with that."

"I didn't try to replace you. I was trying to do my job."

"You didn't have to dye your hair blonde to do your job, Novak," I barked before I covered my mouth with my hand, aware that I had let my temper control my words again. My word vomit had given away too much, and I turned on my heel and walked very briskly across the street.

Fortunately, she did not follow me. Though, I could feel her eyes on me the entire walk across the street. When I reached the other sidewalk, I did not look at her. I was already bright red with embarrassment. I ducked into the office and immediately went to my office, shutting the door. I could feel Marla's eyes on me, but she did not say anything. I think she assumed my trial was not going well.

Though I could not hear the exact exchange, I heard the muffled sounds of Casey and Marla speaking to each other at Marla's desk. Then, there was a soft knock at my door. "Alex, it's Casey."

"The door's not locked," I said, still feeling stupid about my blonde hair comment. Though, it was true. She did not have to dye her hair blonde to do her job. Even the detectives had told me it was a little strange.

Casey entered and stood before me. As I looked up at her, I was reminded of how exhausted she looked, and I had to wonder what could be wearing her out the way it did. "You're right," she said. I gave her a surprised look. I had not expected those words. "I didn't have to dye my hair blonde. I did it on impulse. You're a tough act to follow. You set the bar high, and I struggled to reach it. But, the hair didn't last long. I'm still learning that the only person I have to be better than is who I was yesterday, Alex. Everyone, including me, expected that I would walk in there and fill your shoes. But, that simply cannot be done. Kim couldn't do it. Sonya couldn't. Jo couldn't. The way you move through the system is something I think that only you can do. I couldn't ask to be paired with a better prosecutor."

I bit my lip. "You don't have to suck up to me, Casey," I said. "I'm not hard on you because I think you're less than I am. I'm hard on you because I don't think that the way you push yourself is right for this unit. You act like a white collar attorney. You act like you're afraid of the consequences."

"I think you're harder on yourself than you are on me," she answered. "I think you see every plea negotiation you make as a failure. I see your light on still when I go home at night, and, Alex, I stay until seven or eight nearly every night. When was the last time you went out?"

Shrugging, I considered her question. "A couple of nights ago, I suppose," I said.

"No," she replied. "Not out to the diner to read files. Not out to the bar to contemplate a case. When was the last time you went out not for work but for you. Just to go out. To a play? To dinner on a date?"

I shook my head. "I haven't dated since –" I paused. "Since I was Homicide Bureau Chief." And, I wasn't precisely sure that cheating on my fiancé counted as a proper date. She seemed a little surprised by this, so I added, "I'm not really interested in dating." I have no idea where the compulsion to tell her that came from, but I did not much like it. I worked very hard to keep people in my work life away from my personal life. Sometimes, things happened and they overlapped, but if I could, I really liked the separation.

"Friday night," she said. "Come out with me. Les Mis is playing."

I shook my head. "Those tickets are sold out, Casey," I chided.

She just smiled. "My friend is one of the performers. He can get me a couple of tickets. They always hold some back for friends and family, and his parents disowned him. I'll get to do two things at once: support him in his endeavors and get you out of work mode. It'll be a win-win."

"Why would his parents disown him?" I asked, thinking that such an odd statement.

Casey bit her lip. "He's gay. His parents are homophobic."

"Oh," I said.

"That's, um, not an issue for you, is it? That some of my friends are gay?"

I shook my head. "No. I appreciate the invitation. Why do you want to take me? All we do is argue. If it's not about the case, it's about my mood or your mood or ridiculous things that even I don't understand why we bicker."

She shrugged. "Because all we do is bicker," she answered. "That's exactly why. It'll give us something new to talk about. Maybe, something we can agree on. It can't hurt to try to find common ground, can it?"

I shook my head again. "No, it couldn't," I replied feeling like, at that moment, she was a better human being than I was. Putting work aside, she had taken every blow I had given her in the past month mostly without comment. When she did say something, it wasn't an attack against me. It was always a why. She only ever asked why I said the things I did.

As she left my office, I was left wondering why I was so mean to her. It was out of character for me on so many levels. I did kind of resent her for being my predecessor, but she had no choice in that. That was misplaced anger, and I knew it. But, it was easy to resent her, I thought, because she had done things that seemed to me as if she were trying to act like me. I imagined the pressure to do so was great, but I couldn't help but think she was a little weak for not being able to be herself. Biting my lip, I sighed. There came the excuses again.

It was about time, I decided, that I try to be nice to Casey. She made mistakes in the past, but, with the limited leash I had her currently on, she was doing alright. She was still meek, but her confidence was growing. I could hear it in her voice when she talked to me about the Morgan case, about how she was going to approach trial. She still made mistakes, but I couldn't help but to think that maybe she was making them because I wasn't giving her another option. Was I unintentionally setting her up because I had already decided I didn't want her on my team?

And, when she had done nothing but exactly what she said she would – work her ass off to be better – why didn't I want her in the unit? If I were honest, something about her threatened me, but I did not know what. It wasn't that I worried she would be better. I did worry she would lose too much in a case. She was gaining confidence, but with confidence only came more recklessness. I knew that from watching her, but also from my own actions. She was this reckless without confidence, I could only imagine how much trouble she would be once she felt secure in her position again.

I wanted her to curb it because I knew Jack wasn't going to reassign her. And, if he reassigned her, he had already made it very clear I would be getting a new position, too. I didn't want to leave Special Victims. And, after hearing her talk, I didn't think she did, either. It wasn't a comfort thing for either of us. It was a duty thing. Someone had to do it. If not us, then who? Was it fair to ask anyone else to do it when no one else in the office really wanted to? Sure, there were others who would do it. Rafael Barba in narcotics would thrive under these conditions. But, would he live it for very long? I didn't think so. Of all the other ADAs I knew, he would do alright in SVU. He just would not stay long. He had bigger, better things to do.

The liberalism and the recklessness irked me, and I used it as an excuse, but it wasn't why I was cruel to her. I was cruel because she frightened me. She might have been thirty five, but she was exactly like I was when I was twenty five. Maybe she had a lot of catching up to do, but I did not doubt she could do it. She could be cold when she wanted to be. I did not want an Ice Prodigy.

Casey did not show up to work the next day. I was told she called in, but I did not know when she would be coming back. The day after, she was missing, too, which had been a pity because we had agreed she could do the closing argument in Melody's case. With her absent, I wrapped the case up and, while the jury was in deliberations, I excused myself and tried calling Casey. She did not pick up her phone.

"Casey," I said to her voicemail machine. "It's Alex. Jack told me you weren't feeling well. So, um, feel better. I'll let you know what the jury comes back with here. Just, just let me know if you need something. I can always pick up some soup or something for you."

The verdict came back guilty all counts in the trial. I was pleased. Melody cried in my arms. The detectives invited me to their end of trial bar drink-a-thon. Whether the case was won or not, alcohol always seemed to be involved. It was the mood while we were drinking that differed. I didn't usually go, but that night I did. I also called Casey again, told her if she was feeling better, she should come join us. If not, I hoped she was doing okay and, again, I asked her to call me if she needed something.

"You alright?" Detective Olivia Benson asked me as she set a glass of whiskey down in front of me.

I nodded. "Yea."

"Then why do you look so troubled?" she asked.

Shrugging, I sighed. "What am I doing, Olivia?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," she responded. We were the first two at the bar. We usually were. We used the time we had to catch up on girl talk and discuss whatever we couldn't around the guys. "You mean being here at the bar? Or are you itching to leave SVU again already?"

"I'm not itching to leave," I argued. "I just feel like SVU is all I am anymore."

She snorted. "It's certainly all you allow yourself to be. You and me, Alex, we're the same like that. We're all about work."

"I want more." I bit my lip before downing my drink in one gulp. It burned, and that felt so good.

Olivia smiled. "So, go on dates, go out. Do something. Have more, Alex. No one is stopping you."

I laughed. "I'm forty years old, Olivia. I think I'm a little too old to just go out." Shaking my head, I sighed. "Anyway, there's too much to do elsewhere."

"Hey, Cabot!" a voice behind me called, hands clapping me on the back. "Hell of a win today."

I smiled, covering Munch's hand with my own at my shoulder. "You provided me with evidence. This is what good team work can do."

"By you a drink, Counselor?" Fin asked.

"Sure," I said, holding up my empty glass. He took mine and travelled over to the bar from the table, Munch with him. The three detectives I worked with were fantastic people. John Munch, Odafin 'Fin' Tutuola, and Olivia Benson were a crack team. There had, up until earlier that ear, been a fourth detective. Elliot Stabler. I always thought he and Olivia needed to get together, but I had kept that to myself. He had retired, a story I never liked to get in to despite me having been absent during the shooting he was involved in.

I had heard rumor that Captain Donald Cragen was holding interviews with new prospective Special Victims detectives. I trusted him to find someone who was good, but I had no idea how long it was going to take. Until then, there were three detectives whom I favored considerably despite the unit being a bit larger. Not by much, mind. In the entire NYPD, there were far more. In the Manhattan precincts, there were a grand total of ten sex crimes detectives. The other three teams of two were spread out at the other police precincts in the jurisdiction, and Casey and I handled all of their cases, too, but I had never grown close to them. They changed over too often for me to get to know them. They burnt out too quickly.

A glass appeared in front of me, and I toasted with the others to more successful cases in the future. We chattered a little about work, a little about family for those who had it which was really none of us except sparsely. John ranted a little about one of his conspiracies which had the rest of us laughing and poking fun at him.

It was nearly midnight when I chose to leave. Since it was Friday, and I had never heard back from Casey, I assumed our Broadway play was out. I did not mind, but I did hope that she was okay. It concerned me a little that she was out for two days. But, then, she had been tired when she left on Wednesday.

I tried not to think too much over the weekend. Which, maybe, then, explained the shock I felt when someone knocked on my apartment door Sunday morning.

Stretching, I uncurled from the couch and set my book down on the coffee table. I leaned forward at the door, checking through the peephole. Confused, I unhooked the chain from my door and opened the door. "You're alive."

Casey smiled at me, her red hair pulled back in a ponytail. I eyed her carefully. I didn't think that I had ever seen her in jeans and a shirt before. The cornflower blue seemed to magnify her green eyes that even I had to take note of it. "Hey," she said. "I'm sorry I missed taking you to the show. I was wondering if you were still up to find common ground."

I blinked at her. "Uh, um, come in," I said, remembering my manners. I stepped back, letting her inside. She walked in, her hands tucked into her back pockets. "And, I, what were you sick with? Are you sure you're better?"

"I'm okay," she said. "Doctors cleared me yesterday. Just some twenty four hour flu bug." She smiled at me before her lower lip tucked between her teeth. And, it suddenly hit me what the look meant. It meant she was keeping a secret from me. There was something she did not want me finding out. And, truth be told, I was not sure if I wanted to know. My first thought was that maybe she was a drug addict. It would explain the sleeplessness, the pale skin, and her light sensitivity complaints just as much as a flu virus would. It would also explain her suddenly changing characteristics – the timid to fearless to timid thing she had going on. But, I also did not want to know for sure. If she had a drug problem, it could be hers. If she took the unit down with her, though, I was going to be pissed.

She shook her head at me. "Seriously, Alex, you're not going to catch what I had."

"Alright," I said. "I'm not really dressed for a day out."

"If you don't want to, that's fine. I was thinking simple like a conversation over lunch, strictly no work talk."

I shook my head. "I really don't know what we would have to talk about."

She laughed. "That's the point, Alex. We figure something out."

"You couldn't have just called and asked?"

"You'd say no to me over the phone. I figured if I actually made the effort to come down here, you would be more likely to say yes."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "Fine. Let me change, and we'll be out of here."


	4. Chapter 4

**_Chapter Four: Butterflies and Daffodils_**

I pushed the salad I ordered around on the plate, picking out the chicken and the tomatoes first. I have no idea where that habit was born from, I have simply always done it. I tried to appear as if I were focused on my salad and not on my lunch partner, but I kept stealing furtive little glances as I could. Most of our lunch conversation had been nil. It was difficult for us to find something in common outside of what we did for a living, and since that was bound to erupt into a massive argument, neither of us said anything.

We had already talked about law school. It turned out that both of us had attended Harvard, her two years after I graduated. I learned that she had paid for her own schooling from the time she graduated high school. I had paid for none of mine. I did not want to discuss matters relating to my family's wealth, and I think she was embarrassed about topics surrounding her own near poverty growing up. I could see the vast social class difference between us in the way she sat down at the table. She may have been taught manners by her parents, but she was not taught etiquette. Neither of us were inclined to discuss our respective childhoods which left us with little choice but to turn to our adulthoods for topics of interest.

We had stalemated on that point. I liked culture and arts. She liked sports and being active. I told her she should hang out with Olivia more, not me. But, then, the female detective was her own kind of special. She could fall in easily with my arts and culture and high class values just as easily as she could with Casey's sports and hiking and the male detective's fist bumping, high fiving, and crude language. Some days, I wished she offered courses.

"Can I ask you a question?" I finally asked as I swallowed a cherry tomato.

She smiled at her sandwich. "You did."

I scoffed and shook my head. Casey baffled me. "Seriously, Novak."

"Alright. This is one of those questions I might not like, isn't it?" she set her Panini back down on the plate and gave me the full focus of her attention. That made me more uncomfortable than I might have liked.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I shrugged. "I promised you I'd be civil. Do you not trust me?" I asked.

"Is that your question?" Normally, I would have taken a remark like that to be insincere, but with her, I could tell it wasn't. She was giving me that lost kitten look again. Her green, green eyes shining through with an intellect that just begged to be given a chance, a fair and fighting chance. And, I may have been giving her a chance, but I sincerely wondered if it was a fair one. Marla had accused me of shutting avenues off to Casey that Abbie had made available to me. Was I doing that? I did not know.

"No," I answered. "But, would you answer all the same?"

"No," she said.

I furrowed my brow at her. "No, you won't answer. Or, no, you don't trust me."

"I don't trust you, Alex," Casey said. "And, that disturbs me."

Shrugging, I pushed the lettuce around my plate one last time before I set my fork down. "I haven't given you reason to trust me. In fact, I haven't really given you reason to want to interact with me, let alone on your day off. So, why do you keep trying?"

"Ah," she said, a small smile coming over her lips. "Because I'm not as stupid as you think I am. I told you last week that I heard stories about you. But, it wasn't just the stories I heard, it was the way people told them. People who care about you, who believe you to be a good person. And, I've met these people, Alex. They are some pretty judgmental, hard to please people. I had my share of difficulties with them before we came to know each other. And, I'm not easy. I do things my own way even if it pisses everyone else off."

"I heard you subpoenaed Donald Rumsfeld," I said with a bit of a smile. "That was pretty ballsy."

She shrugged. "I got into prosecution wanting to change things. I had no idea what I wanted to change, but I thought it was the system. Turns out, that's not quite true, and the more I saw in sex crimes, the more I realized that it was society's perception that I wanted to change. And, I don't know what you want to change, but you were assigned Special Victims, so story goes, to clean up their act. You did that and then some. You wouldn't have stayed unless you wanted to. At least, that's the perception I have of you from what I've observed and been told."

I nodded. "This is true. I found my niche."

"And, you don't like to share what's yours."

"Okay, now you make me sound like a spoiled rich kid." She smiled, laughter just shy of her lips. "Casey, I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," she assured me. "I just think it's funny. But, it's true. You don't like to share what's yours. I'm the middle child of seven. Nothing was ever really mine growing up. They were all hand me downs from my older siblings destined to go on to my younger. I'm just better at sharing a niche with someone else. But, I like to think I found a place there, too. I just broke it. And, I get that I have to earn it back. I get that I have to somehow convince you to share your toys. And, I'm okay with that."

She paused, really regarding me. I almost asked her what she was looking at, but I didn't. "Under all of this, Alex, everything you project, your anger, your cruelties, you're just as vulnerable as I am. Why? Because if someone like me can get so wrapped up in sex crimes, someone who was with the squad longer, that she stops caring about the law, how long will it take for you to fall from grace, too? Isn't that why you keep running? You leave and then come back. And, I think it's because you're afraid that you can't tell where that edge is. I couldn't. And, I walked right off it. And, I will spend the rest of my career wondering just how close I am to that same ledge. Too much one direction, and I might go down again. But, it's not just you falling off the ledge that you're worried about. You think if I fall, you'll go, too, so you're doubly at risk. And, you have a lot more to lose than I do."

"What do you mean?" I asked her, more than a little stunned at how easily Casey seemed to read me. She got under my skin in more ways than one, and I could not help but feel cautious now that I was beginning to see the kinds of talents she had.

She shrugged. "Jack may be grooming Addison to be the DA elect after his term limits, but they're both grooming you to be Addison's Chief ADA. Everyone knows it." I licked my lips. They were. I knew it, too, even though no one had officially said anything. Nor would they for about another year. I just had not realized that everyone knew it. "But, a poor reflection of SVU is a poor reflection on you. You were the original task master to clean it up. You came back to fix it again. If you can't keep me on the straight and narrow, how will you keep an office there? I'm a liability to you and your political future. No matter the other reasons you come up with as to why you don't like me, none of them satisfy you. In any of our arguments, you've never seemed wholly convinced of what you tell me when you tell me why I'm such a burden. Am I so terribly off center now?"

We had said we would not talk about work, but I had told Olivia that I felt like all I was was SVU. It seemed inevitable to track back to work. "I may have sorely underestimated you, Casey," I said, my voice hushed. "I'll give you that."

"I have no political aspirations of my own, Alex, but let me work for yours. I asked you to teach me to be sufficient enough to satisfy you. You've stalled at that."

"What are you suggesting, then?"

She licked her lips. "Give me back my docket," she said. "Give me back my own reins. Share your toys. Help me when I ask for it. Put me in my place when I'm out of line. You're my supervisor. My successes reflect back on you. If you can manage me, you'd rise back up. You fell out of homicide. So, make a stand here."

"You would just work for me, nothing in return?" I asked, skeptical. Everyone always wanted something, even if they didn't think they were politicians.

Casey shook her head. I knew it. "I do want something in return," she said.

I raised my brow and looked her over. "What?" I asked.

"Once a week, I want you to go with me somewhere. It can be anywhere and anything. But, it cannot relate to our office, our jobs, or your political career."

I tried to read her face, to see what her real motives were in such a strange request, but I could not read her to save my life. "Before I accept, answer me one thing."

"Okay," she agreed with a head nod.

"Is there anything about you that I may or may not find out that, if someone did find out, would inherently damage either your career or mine?"

She shook her head.

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Alright, then, it's a deal. You get your docket back. You handle them however you see fit. But, if it seems wrong or out of line to me, I'll step in. If you get reckless or your pleas don't make sense, I'm stepping in."

"And, in return, once a week, you let me take your mind off work."

"A friendship through a business transaction?" I asked, aware of how amusing that sounded.

"A business transaction. You don't have to befriend me, Alex. You have enough friends, and so do I." Casey shook her head. "I just think you'll be a lot nicer if you aren't consumed with work."

I nodded. "I'm your project."

Casey shrugged. "Maybe I'm just dying to find out what it is everyone else sees in you." I opened my mouth, then closed it again. "Or, maybe I just think you're interesting."

"Useful," I corrected. "You're a pretty damn convincing politician for someone without political interests, Casey."

Shaking her head, she laughed at me. "No, Alex. I use word choice for a living. I picked the right word."

"I don't think I'll ever understand you," I said with a sigh. "You'll have your docket reassigned to you tomorrow morning. I'll leave the files on your desk with any updates. Let me know if you have questions."

She nodded. I reached into my purse for my wallet, but she stopped me, holding her hand out. If her arm were long enough, I think she would have physically stopped me from grabbing my wallet. "I invited you to lunch, Alex."

I raised my brow at her. "Alright."

"Good. Wednesday night," she said, "plan on going to the zoo after work."

"Okay," I said, my brow furrowed.

"Don't back out of a deal now, Alex," she said. "I never would have thought you for that."

"I'm not," I replied. "Don't I get to pick the location?"

"Next week. I promise. This week, the zoo."

Nodding my consent, I left the restaurant, my mind abuzz with what had just happened. I was pretty sure that Casey had put me in my place in the most diplomatic way possible which meant I really had not been giving her enough credit. Or, I had been giving her just enough when I called her a snake. The thing was, I didn't think snakes were evil. That was a religious thing, and I was raised atheist. Nevertheless, snakes made great diplomats. I knew many.

Outside, I felt for a second as though someone were watching me. I turned quickly to look back, through the window of the restaurant, but Casey was talking to our waiter. I doubted she had been watching me.

Shaking it off as my over active imagination, I headed back to the subway to go home. What I was going to do with myself the rest of the day, I did not know. Although, the library was a tempting thought. I used to spend my free time there as a child. And, I had a lot of free time as a child. My parents were seldom home which meant that once my homework was complete, it was up to my nanny to entertain me. And, she had done that by getting me more books.

My nickname in college had been Belle. Beauty and the Beast had come out the same year I graduated high school, and my apparent obsession with reading to the exclusion of a social life had garnished me such a nickname. It followed me through law school, but had been changed to Ice Princess while I was in misdo court and Ice Queen once I made felony docket.

It turned out, my promotion had come with a change of ranks. But, I earned and kept my nicknames. All three of them. I changed route and headed to the library. My apartment was filled with books. I had read them all. Most of them more than twice. The librarians all knew me by name.

I slipped in to the library mostly unnoticed. Even the security guard was busy giving a tourist directions when I walked in. It was too easy to lose myself until ten o'clock that night in a jungle of words. I brushed up on some of the topics that I really did not study much beyond the basics covered in my undergraduate years of college. I retained nothing of what I read, but it helped me to clear the clutter in my brain. And, I desperately needed that.

True to my word, on Monday, all of Casey's files were back on her desk complete with my notes and suggestions. I let Jack and all of the detectives know. To my surprise, Jack did not question my motives or scold me for my behavior over the month prior. The detectives were a little more perplexed, and they let me know about it. I did not offer them an explanation of any sort other than the fact that I thought it was time she handle her cases herself again. I left them shy on details because I was shy on them myself. Other than the fact that it had been a business transaction, I really was not sure on the motives of either Casey for offering it or myself for accepting.

There was a chocolate bar on my desk when I got back from court, taped to a note that simply said 'thank you.' I decided it was strange, her behavior, because in talking with Olivia, Fin, and John, Casey's demeanor towards them had been filled with anger. Towards me, it had been with fear and hesitation as well as this challenge, like she was trying to prove something to me. So, I had no idea what it meant now that we had reached a truce of sorts.

Apparently, it meant a chocolate bar on my desk because I had finally stopped acting childish. I thought it was weird to be rewarded for not being an asshole. I folded the note around the chocolate bar and stashed it in my desk. I had this feeling that I would want it later.

With no cases of my own that afternoon, but Casey in a motions hearing, picking up where I had left off, I opted to head over to the court house. I grabbed my coat and walked out of my office, almost running into Marla on the way. "I see Casey's in court," she said, a small smile on her face. "Good for you, Alex."

"Yea," I mumbled. "Thanks for making me feel like a toddler sharing my toys."

"That's exactly what you are sometimes, Alexandra. I just call 'em like I see 'em." She laughed at me before handing me a file. "If you're going over there to supervise, can you take these to her? She left them on the printer. They're for the hearing today."

I sighed. "Marla, if she doesn't have this kind of stuff for a motions hearing, what is she going to forget in a trial?"

"They're on the drive, Alex. If she needs them, she can print them out again at the court house. Don't you start with that." And, my secretary knew me too well. "Besides, how do you know they're not coloring pages?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "Really?"

She shrugged. "Guess you could always open the file and see what she left."

Frowning, I took the file from Marla and walked towards the stairs. She was right. I could be nosy. But, did I want to be? Hadn't Casey asked me to trust her? No. I supposed that she technically hadn't asked. I had asked her. Still, it was not something I had earned. I did not require others to trust me. Only to get me what I wanted. I was willing to pay a variety of prices, including trading vague favors with high class, high power figures. Nevertheless, having Casey's trust might have made for a better working relationship, and it was not lost on me that I thought a part of her wanted to be able to trust me.

Seven siblings, though. Trust was probably a big factor for her. I remembered the strange look she had given me when she told me that she didn't trust me. As I walked the block to the court house, I considered it. I could give her the file and act like I didn't know what was in there, act like I gave her the benefit of the doubt. But, that would be lying. Or, I could look and let her know that it either was or was not a big deal that she forgot these things. That would start an argument. Or, I could not look, hold my breath, and hope everything still went smoothly. At worst, she would be apologizing for wasting the judge's time. It wasn't like it was a case dismissing issue. I hoped.

But then, there was still the matter of the Brady violation. That had been intentional, though. Exhaling slowly, I bypassed security with my DA badge and headed up to the court room. I slipped in as quietly as I could and sat behind the prosecutor's table in the closest pew. Leaning over the barrier, I set the file on the desk beside her. "Marla said you left these on the printer," I whispered.

She opened the folder, shook her head, and leaned back. "Alex, I'm confused." I furrowed my brow. "What is it?"

"I don't know. Marla didn't say. She just asked me to bring it."

Casey handed me the folder. I flipped through the pages. All ten pages were blank.

"You didn't forget to bring anything over?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Nope." Casey stood, addressing the court in a smooth, fluid motion. "Your Honor, that's the People's point precisely. The defense cannot possibly-"

I tuned her out. I was still listening, but not actively. If she got stuck, I would know enough to know where she was and maybe help her out, but I could not help but think of our secretary at her desk having her own private little laugh.

When I clued back in, Casey and defense counsel Todd Histern were still going back and forth about child testimony in this case. Generally speaking, five was too young to testify. That was not always the case, and that was the point my red haired co-counselor was trying to make. Not only had the court ruled previously in favor of allowing such a young child to testify, there were established question and answer games to determine whether or not the child knew the difference between a truth and a lie.

I watched her do her little song and dance. She did not have the same snappy, angry disposition I had that had earned me my nickname, but in some ways, she was equally ruthless. I gave her a quick, reassuring smile when she turned and glanced back at me, apparently surprised to find me still there. She smiled softly, her green eyes going soft. Right before she turned back around, though, I saw a hard film form over them that I had not seen either in the office or when she sat beside me for a month on all of my cases. But, then, I hadn't really looked at her.

The judge made her rulings on the motions, and I jotted down a few notes for Casey like I promised I would. It wasn't much, just a couple of little things. Really, it was more just to have something for her. She was still nervous. Maybe me being there did that, I didn't know. But, her nerves showed, and if there was a weakness, it was a safe bet that another attorney would exploit it.

Casey sat beside me in the empty court room, the file on her lap. Her lower lip was drawn between her teeth in that way that she held it, that secretive way, like she was thinking something she would never say.

Carefully, I tore the paper I had been writing on off the pad and handed it to her. "Just some notes. I'm sure you don't need them."

She glanced down, reading them over. "Actually, they're helpful," she murmured. "I feel like I'm starting all over again, that I should know things that I find myself questioning. I'm overly cautious, and that's just as dangerous as its opposite."

"Yes," I agreed. "It takes time to get over it, though, Casey. And, I don't know that you ever really do. Whatever it is that makes you nervous, makes you hesitate despite years of confidence, that can cripple you if you let it. I made mistakes in homicide, not just with the office, but in my personal life. I made stupid mistakes, some that didn't affect the cases I worked but still affected me. And, I made calls about cases that I shouldn't have. I was angry, and I was out of control. That's why I went to appeals court. I got out of the city without leaving what I knew."

"You're still a very angry woman, Alex Cabot," Casey said.

"And, you're a mystery. Can't change who we are, I suppose."

She just smiled, her hands in her lap, lip tucked between her teeth. "I hope you're not always angry. I want – if I'm taking you to the zoo on Wednesday, you need to not scare the tigers."

I laughed. "Gee, thanks, Novak."

"I have to be in Enquist's division in ten minutes. You observing there, too?" she asked me as she stood, grabbing her little cart. I shook my head. "Why not?"

"You think I need to?" I asked.

Casey opened her mouth and then closed it again. "You're still terrified I'm going to take us both down. Why would you ask that?"

"If you don't want me there but know you need someone, then you're setting yourself up for failure, and we'll both be reassigned. If you don't want me there and don't need anyone, then neither of us are going anywhere. If you don't need me there but want me, then you're wasting my time," I said.

"What if I both need and want you there?" she asked me, cocking her head to the side as she regarded me. I was on the fence about her. Yes, there was something about her that I wanted to find out more about. I liked understanding others; even if I could not, I liked to try. At the same time, something about her grated against me. I thought that it might have been the fact that she treated me differently than she did others when I observed her. I didn't know why, and that made me suspicious.

"Then, you should probably find a different career," I said. "I'll see you back at the office."

I waited until she had left before standing and leaving as well. I think it was just beginning to dawn on me that afternoon just how much trouble I was in for.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Chapter Five: Branded_**

I left work Wednesday before Casey returned from court. In all truth, I had not been to the zoo since I was a child, and I had no idea what to expect there any longer. I knew enough to know my suit would not fit in too well and would likely get ruined, so I changed into jeans and a halter before leaving. However, it left me standing at the front entrance for a little while longer, chewing at the inside of my cheek so much that I was surprised it didn't bleed. I held my sweatshirt in my hands, but I didn't think I would need it. Less that the day was particularly warm or comfortable, more that I was nervous. I still was not certain of Casey's motives, and that she was so certain of mine was a little terrifying. Even my parents could never read me the way she sometimes did.

In fact, just that morning, she had said something that had caught me entirely off guard. I had not made it a point to hide anything from anyone, and it was something as stupid as a book I had been reading, but she asked me whether or not the ending was satisfying. I had just finished reading it that morning on the train. I had asked about it, and she said that she noticed when I walked in that the book mark was gone. Maybe it was not reading me so well so much as noticing things, but I had to wonder if she noticed that kind of thing about everyone. Marla seemed to think so. And, when I asked Fin about it later, he said that he had noticed it more lately than he had remembered when she had prosecuted before her censure.

Without really knowing why, it was just something I found interesting. I might have jokingly said that she found religion, but I knew Casey had been a Catholic long before she was a prosecutor, so the religion thing was hers.

That I noticed her walking up to me from the bus stop by the Bronx Zoo told me that I did not often see her outside of work. Other than her showing up to my apartment on Sunday, which I had not known she had the address but had not noticed that minor detail until late Tuesday afternoon, I had never seen her outside of her work attire. An emerald green off the shoulder long sleeve shirt and a pair of black jeans made her look even more pale than she was. Vampire pale. I was almost shocked she wasn't turning into a lobster in front of me from sun exposure. I had to give it to her, though, her hair and eyes popped. I watched a couple of guys nearby turn and watch her, appreciation in their eyes.

I had this strange urge to snarl at them. I likely would have, too, if questioning my actions were not almost second nature to me. I managed to keep my lips together, parting to a small smile only when I was sure Casey had seen me. "And, here, I thought you stood me up," I mused.

"You mean, people actually stand you up?" she asked me, light smile gracing her lips.

I popped my brows in her direction. "You would be the first," I told her. And, unless I counted that one time in high school, that was the truth. But, then, the kind of people I made dates with were not the kind of people who would want to stand me up. Usually, my dating life had been politically driven. I would use my date to network. He would use me. When we were satisfied we no longer needed each other, the break ups were smooth. Despite my appreciation for Robert, when we broke off the engagement, it went over a lot smoother than I had imagined. I think he knew I was using him. And, to be honest, he used me in the end.

"How old were you the first time you went to the zoo?" Casey asked me as we joined the line of people to purchase tickets. I supposed I could have bought them while I had been waiting for her, but I had not thought of that. My mistake. Or, perhaps it was good fortune.

I thought about it. "I think seventh grade," I said. "We had a project in my science class where we each had to write a report on a different animal. And, the zoo trip just went along with it."

The surprise on her face surprised me. "You never went as a little kid?" she asked.

Shaking my head, I shrugged. "I guess not. My nanny didn't like animals very much."

"Where did you go?"

"The library, the art museum, science museum, that kind of thing," I said, cocking my head to give her a strange look. "Why? How old were you?"

She smiled, glancing away as if enjoying the memory. "We would get to come out three weekends a year. My brothers, sisters, and I along with my mother. My father would come occasionally." She looked at me again, as if her brain had only just latched on to something. "You said nanny. What about your parents?"

Again, I shrugged. "They were always gone. My mother mostly worked out of the country. When she was in town, it was usually only for a handful of days, three, maybe four. My father worked a lot of long hours. When he was home, he stayed in his study."

"And, you're an only child?" she asked.

"They hardly had time to make more," I said with a smile. I shoved my hand in my pockets. My parents had always been an awkward topic for me. I knew they had not played a large part in my upbringing, that my nanny, Jenna, and the live in cook, Darren, had played a greater role than my parents had. But, it tended to awe others who did not understand that as a child, all I had craved was the attention only a parent could give. I had excelled in my studies, convincing myself that if I did well enough, they would tell me congratulations. At the very least, when I graduated valedictorian of my high school, I had hoped they would attend the ceremony. They had not. Jenna and Darren had. I had cried myself to sleep that night.

It was also the last time I cried over my parents until I learned of my mother's death. I still loved them very much, and when they were around, they were great. It was just more of a treat than anything. Still, I was enrolled in equestrian classes, music classes, dance classes, etiquette classes, and anything else that would keep me too occupied to notice their absence.

Casey gave me a sad smile, her fingers resting lightly on my arm. "If it helps, siblings aren't always all they're cracked up to be," she said.

"I'm not saying I had a bad life, Casey. Siblings or only child, each has its good and bad. I had a very good childhood. It was just that the zoo was not a part of it."

She nodded, stepping up to the window, requesting two tickets. I batted away her hand when she went to pay and asked the cashier to run my card instead. Casey opened her mouth to argue, and I shook my head. "Don't argue with me," I said. "I'm a lawyer."

That gave her pause. The cashier laughed and ran my card. "Hey, wait," Casey said after a moment. "I am, too."

I laughed. She shook her head and took her ticket, tucking it into her pocket as she scowled at me. "So, how many older siblings do you have?" I asked since she had brought up family.

"Three older," she answered, "three younger."

"Wow. When you said middle child, you literally meant middle."

"Yep," she said. "I have one older sister and two younger sisters; one younger brother and two older brothers."

"Well, didn't that work out well?" I teased. "What's it like?"

She shrugged, stepping down the path towards the primate house. "The girls all shared one room, the boys the other. It was a lot of fighting, screaming, throwing things, loving, taking care of, just everything you could ever imagine and then some. It was kind of great, actually."

"Wow. So, pure chaos?" She nodded. But, the way she looked away from me told me that she did not really want to talk about her family. I wondered at that. Still, I knew better than to press, so I asked, instead, "You gonna give me a tour of this zoo, Novak, or what?"

That brought the smile back around to her face, and I decided that I liked that much better.

I tried to refrain from wrinkling my nose as we walked into the primate house. It was noisy and smelled like, well, monkeys and gorillas and apes and whatever else was housed in the area. My gut instinct was to leave the area. I almost did because Casey was in front of me, and I didn't think she would notice, but her hand absently reached back and closed over my wrist, dragging me forward to an exhibit where the monkey was sitting on a fake branch, fruit stuffed into its face, staring at everyone as though we were in the cages instead.

"What do you think he thinks?" I asked Casey. "I mean, do you think he has ideas and thoughts and plans for his future? Or do you think it's all about food and sleep and sex for him?"

"Alex," she chided.

"Well, sex is a pre-requisite to species survival, Casey. It's gotta cross his mind at some point. I just don't know if he's looking for a nice mate to share his future with or just some girl monkey to-"

"Alex," she repeated, staring at me, her lips parted either in awe or as though I had just sprouted three more heads, each with an unusual number of eyes.

I had the good graces to flush and step away. "I'm sorry," I mumbled, pulling my hand from hers, only then realizing that she had kept her grip on me. My hand was warm where she had been holding on, and in the New York air, it cooled fast enough for me to realize I did not share human touch as often as I craved it. "That was not appropriate. What's, um, next?" I felt awkward, and that was probably not a good sign. I never felt awkward. "You know what? No. Wait. What's – what's off limits with you?"

Casey tilted her head and looked at me strangely. "I'm not sure what you mean."

I bit my lip. "Comfort level, Casey," I said.

"Oh," she murmured. "Well, um. I don't know. I'm a sex crimes prosecutor. You don't get further from comfort than that."

I stared at her. Did she really believe that, after all this time? Apparently, my staring meant something to her because she bit her lip, her upper lip this time as she considered my question. "Fine. I just, nothing. I mean, it's just strange to hear you talk about what a monkey thinks about and monkey sex. It's not something I would have ever thought you would discuss, and it just took me by surprise."

Laughing, I reached out and traced her hair down her cheek with the tips of my fingers. "I have heard a lot of strange things. I have said a lot of strange things. But, I think you're right. That pretty much ranks up there on the strangest." I laughed again.

Smiling, Casey shook her head. "Tell me about your seventh grade trip," she instructed.

"What about it?" I asked, unsure of what she was looking for. It was a vague command, and while I knew she was attempting to have a conversation, I had no idea how to continue. I did not know why. Something about talking to her and being around her made me freeze, made my brain not want to work as fast.

"What animal did you pick?"

I paused. "The, uh, emerald tree boa," I answered. "I had a thing for green as a kid."

"Really?" Casey mused. "I would have picked pink."

"Pink?" I asked, surprise evident not just in my voice but in my startled reaction. "I've heard black. And gray. But, pink?"

"What? You weren't a princess growing up?"

I shook my head, stuffing my hands in the pockets of my jeans. "Oh, no. No. I-" I laughed. "I was the social outcast. I didn't like talking to the other kids. Play dates never really happened."

"Why not?" It was such an innocent question, but my answer made me feel like a stone cold bitch from the time I was born, so I said nothing. My response was to shrug and keep walking. She must have stopped for a second because the next thing I knew, she was jogging to catch up, her hand falling on my arm for a heartbeat before she slipped her arm through mine. I pulled away, though not fast enough that my hand was not captured in hers again.

"Alex." Her voice was barely a whisper, and it was sad, distant. I knew she genuinely wanted to know what had caused my strange reaction, but the truth was that I did not someone to be concerned. I wanted to be alone suddenly, even if it meant being all alone in a crowded room. But, something untraceable about her presence made it so impossible to be alone. I had no idea what she had learned in her three year absence from law, but it was frightening. Pleasant, yes. But, frightening nonetheless. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it, okay?" I snapped. I could feel the anger bubbling just beneath my skin. Why did she have to press and pester and question? Why could we not just leave well enough alone? Stupid, stupid woman. I ripped my hand from hers and quickly walked off.

If she followed, I did not know. I didn't bother looking back.

For over an hour, I wandered around the zoo, but I eventually drifted to the reptile exhibits. Despite the upgrades to the tanks and the kid-friendly designs, the emerald tree boa was still where it had been twenty five years prior. Of course, it was not the same snake, but it was a pretty snake nonetheless. I felt a hand on my back, a body close to mine. I could feel her sweater brush the skin of my arms, and without looking at her, I sighed. "You know," I said, "these boas go their entire lives very rarely on the ground. They dangle above their prey to catch it." I gave a snort. "Humans are one of the only mammals that do not look up when they are afraid. We assume the predator cannot come from above. That's what predators like these rely on."

It was several seconds before Casey said anything. And, when she did, her voice was subdued. "Do you ever feel like that's what you're up against?" she asked, chewing nervously at her lip. "A predator you know is there but you can't see because you refuse to look up?"

I snorted again, looking sideways at her. "I guess," I mumbled. I didn't give the woman enough credit, though at that time, I could hardly feel badly about it all. I had just needed a moment. Or several. She had given me the space, and I appreciated it. By the time we reconvened, I was in a much better place emotionally and mentally. I could have a human conversation.

She nodded. "You know, my favorite color is green."

"It suits you," I murmured.

That managed to crack a grin from her, and what was left of the tension broke away. I felt instantly relieved, though I did not truly understand why I had felt so constricted in the first place. "What about you?" she asked. "What's your favorite color, right now?"

I bit my lip. "Right now?" I repeated, making fun of her just a little. "Orange. Neon orange."

She laughed. "You are a surprise, Alex."

"So are you," I mumbled, smiling. No one had ever called me a surprise before. It was amusing.

We left the reptile exhibits and headed toward the entrance of the zoo, falling back into silence. Casey eventually looked at her watch, and I quirked a brow at her. "It's been a whole two and a half hours since you did anything work related, Alex," she mused with a cheeky grin. "I'm proud of you."

I took my time walking home after we parted ways. I did want to get home, but I also wanted to be able to really think, and I never quite managed to do that sitting at my dining room table with my files spread everywhere around me. It just seemed like work consumed everything I was and everything I did. Despite the time spent that day with Casey, I had met her because of work. I had agreed to our very strange little arrangement because of work. I had to admit, it was nice, despite my moodiness, to get away for a short time. I definitely could appreciate that.

Casey was still a mystery to me. She was incredibly persistent which I admired in another person, but I found it unusual for her as well. One moment, she was peaceful, almost eerie. The next, she was this fire ball. And, I had not then figured out what it was that triggered her so. If I could just find her remote, I thought, then maybe I stood a chance at figuring her out. Then again, maybe she was not meant to be figured out. Maybe she was just supposed to be this mystery.

The detectives seemed to like her well enough. Jack liked her. And, Jack did not like people without good cause. There must have just been something about her that I missed. Or, maybe I was looking too hard. I was looking for the corruption in her heart because I didn't want our differences to be because of our motives. I wanted her to have the darker soul. After the zoo, though, I just did not think that was true.

It was gone ten when I finally unlocked my apartment door. I have no memory of where I went. I just walked aimlessly until I found myself wandering home. For the first time in a long time, I drifted into an easy sleep. I dreamt about the emerald tree boa, and that a brilliant green snake with brilliant green eyes swooped down from the trees and swallowed me whole.

The next day, Casey was nothing but professional. She did not even mention the zoo trip, and I realized that Marla had no idea about our little arrangement. I had not told her, but I had assumed Casey would. Casey seemed to confide in our secretary more than I did. I liked Marla and trusted her completely, but there were very few people I actually confided in.

After lunch, I opted to leave my office door propped open for the first time in four, nearly five, months. That earned me an 'mhm' from Marla who eyed me suspiciously before returning to her desk. "I can always close it again," I said.

"You do what you like, Alex," she returned with a knowing smile. Exactly what she thought she knew, I had no idea. I didn't ask. I knew it would be too telling if I did.

Casey came by nearer three, knocking on my door frame lightly. She had said nothing about my open door, but I had noticed the surprise on her face when she had realized it was open and she didn't have to play 'what's the password' to get in to my office. "Can you proof read this motion for me?" she asked, holding out a small stack of papers.

"Sure," I answered as she stepped into my office and sat down across the desk from me. I took the papers and glanced over them. "What's it for?"

"Motion to Use Previously Obtained Testimony for a Deceased Witness Pursuant to six-seventy NY Crim P." I glossed over the introductory paragraph which was pretty much standard in any motion. "Laura Davidson testified at one of the hearings, but I received word yesterday that she was pronounced dead after an alcohol overdose. I'm requesting the M.E. expedite her death certificate, but trial is in a month. I have to give notice. And, request the court's permission."

"Naturally," I said. "How material a witness is she?"

"She's the outcry in a case involving the sexual assault of a seven year old boy – Adam Rabideau." I nodded. I remembered looking at that case, but with so many witnesses in so many cases, sometimes I had a hard time keeping track. At any rate, being the outcry witness in a child sex assault case made her a pretty material witness. "I requested the transcript yesterday for as soon as possible. Tanya emailed me this morning and said she should have it by the end of the week. I already submitted a motion for extension of the trial date citing all of this."

"Okay," I murmured, already reading the motion.

"There are a couple of places I'm not sure if they make sense." I nodded. I would find them if they didn't. If they did and she was just being a perfectionist, I would notice that, too. She fell silent as I read. I made no corrections or suggestions as I read. Instead, I waited. Even with questions, I waited. Fortunately, Casey was a stickler like me for grammar and punctuation, so it made for a smooth read.

I did figure out where she was struggling, and I helped her reword the paragraphs so that it said what she wanted it to say. It was nice bouncing things off of her as we wrote. I kind of wished we had attended Harvard at the same time. We would have made good study partners, and I would have appreciated someone as dedicated as I was to study with. That had been the problem with some of my law school friends. I would have thought that my fellow students would have been as dedicated as I considering not only the school we attended but also the fact that we had already accomplished our undergraduate degrees. Alack, no matter the age or profession, some people never grew up, and Harvard, for me, had been more like a public high school than my high school had been.

After we worked it out to where Casey was satisfied and I thought it would be presentable, Casey leaned back in her chair, watching me.

"What?" I asked after a few moments, unable to discern what it was she wanted.

She just smiled, and, for several seconds, continued to regard me in silence. When she did answer, I wanted to say she was being obnoxious, but I somehow knew that she was not. "Thank you."

I would have normally asked what she was thanking me for, but considering my immense dislike for her up to a few days prior, I could understand. "You're welcome," I said because I had no idea what else to say. When it came to Casey, I was just beginning to learn how deep I was in, and I was just touching the surface. The mystery that seemed the shroud her grew with each passing week, and after the zoo trip, I had learned caution around her. It was not necessarily bad caution, but caution did not come with positive things in my experience, either.

Smiling absently, she stood, heading for the door.

"Sunday," I said quickly, surprising myself a little as well.

"Hm?" She paused and turned only her head.

"Sunday marks the beginning of a new week. So, Sunday is the day I want to go out and do something not work related."

Casey nodded. "Okay. What?"

Licking my lips, I glanced at my hands on the desk before looking back at her. "I want you to take me to a sports complex – any – and teach me a sport."

I watched a smile spread not just through her lips but into her eyes. I had caught her on something that interested her deeply. I was trying. I wanted to know her just as well as she seemed to know me. "Any sport?" she asked.

Nodding, I narrowed my eyes, my lips pursed in hesitation. "Not shooting."

"Anything else you know about?"

Biting my lip, I shook my head. This was not entirely true, but I doubted that she was going to take me somewhere that I knew about the sport. It was unlikely. "Nope. I just – I don't like guns."

Casey nodded. "I think I understand," she murmured. "But, I can do a sport. Sunday. Hm, ten am?"

"Alright," I agreed, feeling a little more secure that we had a plan. I have no idea why that made me think everything would be better. I really had no idea what was so wrong. But, there was a plan, and I did feel better about it.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Thanks for the patience. I am working on the others. I promise. Things are slower now, though. Classes picked back up, and so did work. Still plugging away. As always, let me know if you're enjoying it. Or if you think something could be improved. _

_DMAA_

**_Chapter Six: Makeshift_**

My feet pounded across the pavement as I scrambled after the ball. Casey had taken me into the city, into a part of the city I recognized that made me nervous. Why she thought I was so nervous was not the real reason I was, but that quickly dissipated when she pulled her hair up into a ponytail and pulled a basketball out of the bag she was carrying over her shoulder. She started by showing me how to dribble which took considerably more skill than I had initially thought that it did.

I will be the first to admit that it actually took convincing for me to put on shorts to go learn about basketball. Casey had walked into my apartment and stared at my jeans and shirt like I was licking lead paint. After brief but intense discussion, she pushed me back into my bedroom, closed the door, and told me not to come out until I was wearing more sport appropriate attire. Her words, not mine. That had been a challenge. I owned one pair of shorts, and they were not for going out in public in. Nevertheless, I had pulled them on, changed my top to match, and represented myself for inspection.

The first words out of my mouth were that women should not be in public with shorts. She pointed to her own with a stern frown. I had argued that she was half honorary guy because she played sports. Naturally, her rebuttal had been that I had requested to learn to play. If I felt she was forcing me to do anything, we could always do something else. She had said it jokingly, but I saw a small pang of fear in her eyes that I would change my mind. It was confirmed when she told me if I really wanted to wear jeans, I could, I would just be uncomfortable. I had left the shorts on. I had no idea why I had, but I was grateful. I could not have imagined all the running I did inside the little rectangular court.

Presently, a handful of other people came along, some closer in age to us and others in their late teens and early twenties, and we had formed up two teams, everyone more than willing to give me pointers as I learned. And, so it was that two hours later, I was sweating more than I had in my entire life as I ran around the concrete court, chasing after Casey.

I watched the ball leave her hands midstride, propelled upward to the basket. I had learned all kinds of new terminology that day, and I was ever learning more. The ball sank through the hoop as though Casey had put zero effort into it whatsoever, and I found myself jealous of my coworker's skills in an area which I knew next to nothing about.

"Alright Casey!" one of the younger men cheered as Casey beamed. "Two points. In your face!"

"In my what?" I whispered to Casey as she turned, tapping my arm, indicating I should pay attention to the ball.

"I'll explain later," she answered, moving gracefully between me and my teammate with the ball. Normally, I might have used my height as my advantage, but Casey and I were mere centimeters apart in height, so that did me no good, there. Instead, I faked left, went right, caught the ball, and stumbled down the court, Casey jogging just ahead of me. I passed the ball, but my aim sucked, and one of Casey's teammates caught it, laughing as he pressed back the way I had just come.

"Thanks, Lex!" Casey called, dodging before me again to help clear his way to the goal. Hoop. Basket. Whatever.

I waved my hand. "Any time," I called, slowing down as I panted.

Falling back with me, Casey watched my labored breathing. "You okay?"

"I don't really exercise like this, Case," I said. "I'm gonna sit down. You keep playing."

"You sure?" she asked me.

I nodded. "I can cheer from the sidelines while I catch my breath." I jogged off the court and sat down next to her small duffel. I had thrown a water bottle in there that morning before we left my apartment, and I fished it out then. Chugging down a few gulps, I sighed, leaning back into the fence. I had no idea what or who I was cheering for, so I just cheered every time the ball went into the basket. It seemed easy enough to me. The cheering part. Everything else was like learning a new language.

A few minutes later, Casey came and sat down beside me, our bodies touching. I could feel the warmth radiating from her. I was still warm from the sun, but I was not sweating as much once I had rested. It was all her, and I closed my eyes, feeling it pulse from her body in time with her rapid heartbeat.

"Need a rest, Supergirl?" I teased, offering her my water bottle. She took it, happily sucking down the water. We cheered on the players, and she explained to me what was going on in the makeshift game.

Eventually, as we sat there, my coworker leaned against me, my arm draped naturally around her. She snuggled against me, and I could not be the only one who noticed that she fit perfectly. "Tell me something about you you wouldn't normally tell someone like me," she murmured, her tone both a request and an instruction.

I frowned. I had no idea what to tell her. "Ask me a question. If I can answer it, I will."

"Implying?" she mused, tilting her head to look at me.

I smiled down at her. "Implying that you're going to have to start being nosy instead of vague if you want to learn my dirty little secrets," I muttered.

She laughed. "Alright. What did you major in in college?"

That was easy. "International Relations. My law degree is in international law."

Sitting up quickly, she stared at me. "No way," she blurted. "That's awesome."

It was my turn to laugh. "Yes, way," I answered as she lay back against me, holding my hand between hers. "What about you?"

She played with my fingers, rolling the skin and bone between her own thumb and forefinger, bending my fingers at the joints. "I double majored in biochemistry and mechanical engineering."

"Impressive," I said. "That's a long way off from law. Why the change?"

"I started out pre-med," Casey murmured, flexing my fingers as if trying to figure out how and why they moved the way they did. "I actually did my first two years of med school. I was young when I graduated college, twenty. I found out in med school that I couldn't do what I wanted – I couldn't save everyone. I don't know why law. Maybe because I was at Harvard already, it was easier to switch schools. I thought, if I couldn't save everyone, I would fight for them in a different capacity."

Stroking her hair back from her face, I traced her cheek with the backs of my fingers. "So, you're this super genius and you've never let me know?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I'm not a super genius," she rebuffed. "My IQ is only one sixty."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Does that not qualify for genius?"

She flushed, tucking her head. "It does," she whispered. "But, only barely."

Playfully, I smacked her shoulder. "Whatever, Novak. Just, whatever." She laughed.

As the sound faded from her lips, I found myself looking down her body. Her flame red hair, already naturally red but dyed even more vibrantly, showered over her shoulders. She had pulled her ponytail out to lie against me, and I could see the waves where it had been tied back. There was still this curl to her hair that I knew was natural. I played with one of the ringlets. From the way she had rested her head against me, I could make out the slope of her cheek bone and her nose, her lips just barely thin lines. Her jaw bone curvature was strong and even, and her neck was a perfectly milk white. She wore a short sleeved maroon shirt that hugged her body and a pair of men's black basketball shorts. Her milk white legs were curled against her, ending in black tennis shoes, the tops of a green pair of ankle socks just peeking over the rim.

I felt her move against me, her head tilting to look at me. "Alex, are you okay?" she asked.

My eyes met hers, and I nodded, but she kept staring at me like something was different. "I'm fine."

"Your breathing changed."

"Did it?" I murmured. "I'm sorry. I was just zoning out." I caught myself before I flushed.

"What were you thinking about?" she asked, her voice entirely innocent. At that moment, I praised God for Catholic girls because what I was thinking was nothing close to innocent. And, I could not tell her that. I could not tell her that for the briefest of moments, I had wondered what her skin would taste like. I imagined it would taste like the sunshine melting us, warm, delicate, like little droplets of golden honey kissed against her soul. That would have been highly inappropriate, not to mention out of character for me. I did not wonder that about people I worked with. Ever.

I shrugged. "Just the world," I answered, my tone vague and cryptic intentionally.

"Oh," she mused. "Okay. Anything interesting?"

"You could say that," I said. I bit my cheek as I glanced around the court. Our former teammates were still playing, cheering each other on, and yelling. One glanced my way, and I gave him a cheesy grin. Anything, anything I could do to resist stroking my fingers up and down Casey's arm, I would do. I had not expected my coworker, especially not this coworker, to grow on me the way she had. That I would be in trouble had become increasingly obvious over the course of perhaps a week, since she showed up at my apartment, really. But, I could not pin her down. I could not decipher either her sexuality, availability, or interest, and I sincerely doubted any of those applied.

It wasn't that I wanted to date her, but touch her, taste her, yes. Her skin had a texture that seemed to call out to me, like fresh fallen snow. I wanted to play in it, and that seemed so strange. I had no idea where the urge came from. For years, I had known I could fall for a woman. I had dated a couple, though nothing particularly serious had happened. I had never done more than kissed a woman. It had always just been my assumption that I would settle down with a man, though as I had turned forty a few months prior, I figured I would probably never marry. In truth, I didn't mind that idea. I didn't want to marry just because I thought I should. I wanted to marry because I could spend the rest of my life with the same person, and he could spend the rest of his life with me.

Casey untangled herself from me, standing and stretching. "I want ice cream," she murmured, glancing down at me.

I smiled. "Well, reclaim your ball, and we'll go to this place I know a few blocks from here."

She gave me a strange look. "Amy's?" she asked. I nodded. "How do you know what's down here? I wouldn't imagine you came around too often."

I shrugged. "How do you?"

She pointed to the east. "I grew up about ten blocks from here. This is the basketball court I played at with my siblings as a kid."

Nodding, I bit my lip. "I knew the area pretty well growing up. Amy's was my favorite place as a little kid. My mom used to take me. I'm just surprised at how long it's stayed open."

"I thought your nanny took you everywhere."

I smiled. "I was five when I first got a nanny. Before that, things were a little different." I shoved my hands into the pockets of my own shorts. "Can we head that direction?"

Casey bit her lip, studying me for a moment longer. "Yea," she said. She turned, calling to the others. "Ball!"

"Thanks for letting us play," the teen who had the ball said, tossing Casey the ball.

"Thanks for playing," she said, tucking the ball away in the bag and throwing it over her shoulder.

I smiled. "Thanks for teaching me," I added.

Casey slid her hand in mine, her fingers separating mine to lace between mine. "Whatever happened, Alex," she whispered as we walked down the street, "I'm sorry it had to be you."

Without knowing what to say, I said nothing. I had dug myself a tiny hole, and, in forgetting how observant she was, I knew it was a tidy hole. If I said anything, I was damned because I would either be talking about things I did not want others to know or I would be lying, and I did not want to lie to her. Somehow, I knew she would know if I did. So, I kept my mouth shut.

"Hey," I murmured. "It's your turn. Tell me something personal that you would never have thought you would have told me." She pulled her hand from mine, animatedly pressing her finger to her lips. I hadn't thought there would be so much to consider, but, apparently, there was. It made me wonder more about her. But, then, that might have been her intent all along.

"Alright," she said after a few moments. "So, when I was sixteen, my mother somehow became convinced I must be pregnant. She called my father who was stationed in Italy at the time. He spent a good two hours lecturing me about premarital sex and teen pregnancy. He concluded with he thought the best suggestion was adoption after the baby was born. Never mind that I kept repeating that I wasn't pregnant, couldn't be pregnant, and had no interested in sex at all. My mother took me to a priest before the doctor. That was an interesting confession. Fortunately, the priest seemed to believe me. The doctor lectured me about teen pregnancy even though the test came back negative. It took about thirty seconds for me to convince her that teen pregnancy would never be my issue." She chuckled somewhat dryly.

I raised my brow, unsure of what that meant. I almost asked why not, but we came up on Amy's Ice Cream and Candy, and Casey beamed at me. "I love their old fashioned licorice," she said with a warm smile. And, just like that, the dark mood that was descending over both of us floated away, and I was left wondering whether or not she had shared something private to convince me it was okay to share something private, particularly because she had made multiple references to me skirting something intimate. I had paid attention to Huang. The FBI psychiatrist had helped us nail a perp more than once, and I hoped he would be back in New York to do so again soon. George had been one of my favorite people outside of the squad, and I really had listened to him psycho-analyze not only possible suspects but also each of us in turn.

"Yea," I said absently as I drifted into the store behind her. Other than a new coat of paint and new teens behind the counter, Amy's hadn't changed much since my childhood. I picked out a few old fashioned candy treats as Casey and I perused the shelves and buckets as though we were five years old again. It was somewhat difficult to maintain my composure as excitement spilled out of me. I was glad it was Casey with me, not someone else. Anyone else would have told all of the other people in the office that I could be three with little more than a good chocolate bar. Casey would keep that piece of information to herself, storing it away in what I was now calling the Alexandra data bank. She knew more about me, in some ways, than even Detective Olivia Benson who had probably been my closest friend much of my adult working life.

"Here, try this," Casey said as she came up behind me, offering an ice cream cone to my mouth over my shoulder. It was kind of awkward and pretty much gave me no choice as to whether or not to actually try it. So, I licked her ice cream. And, where I was at that moment, that was a lot more sexual to me than it probably ever would be to Casey.

Surprisingly, though, whatever she gave me was tasty. "What do you think?" she asked. In response, I just bit into the creamy ice cream, smiling as she stepped in front of me, playful scowl on her face. "Al-Lex."

I laughed, ignoring the small pang in my mouth from biting into something so cold. "What is it?"

"Medley. It's them taking all of the ice cream flavors from the previous day and mixing them together."

"Tastes like cookie dough birthday cake," I mused.

She nodded. "Mostly is. Um, birthday cake, cookie dough, and caramel."

I nodded. "Good thing they kind of go together." She giggled. I thought it was strange, Casey Novak giggling. I had since the beginning of February sat through trials and meetings with defense counselors and phone calls, watching her, studying how she operated with the intent to change her to operate to my ways. And, in the just over two weeks that she had been pulling me out of my area of power, she was starting to change me. I wanted to hate her for it, even as I smiled that she licked her cone like a toddler would, messy and full of enthusiasm.

Something about the way I looked at her must have betrayed me because she cocked her head, watching me with those green, green eyes of hers. "What?"

"Nothing," I murmured.

"No," Casey said, "You did it again."

I raised my brow, indicating my confusion. This time, I really did not know what she was talking about.

"Your breathing, Cabot." I gave her my blank look, as if she were smoking some sort of narcotic, and I just could not figure out what it was. It was my 'you're deluded' look. She gave me her 'you're an idiot' look, sighed, and turned back to her ice cream, nibbling at what looked like a cookie dough bite. "Fine. When you're ready to talk, you will."

"What makes you so sure?" I asked.

She smiled, coy and brilliant at the same time. "Because you just confessed that you have something to talk about," she teased, "something you're hiding from me."

I swear that it took every ounce of my being not to lean over and kiss her. Not lovingly kiss her. Not chaste. Not cute and innocent. Not 'I want to explore you' kiss her. No. Whatever it was, it was dark and filled with pure sex. She did things to me, and I hated it. The kiss I wanted was the soul sucking kiss. The one that claimed a person, said 'you are mine and mine alone.' I wanted the kind of kiss that lead to sex. Not passionate sex, mind. Hard, hurt me-hurt you sex. See who would bruise the fastest, bleed first sex.

"That wouldn't hold up in court," I said, fully aware my voice had deepened. If she noticed, though, she said nothing. She just shook her head and gave me a look I swear I taught her. As she glanced up through her lashes, her head tucked but not in a diminutive manner, I read her meaning perfectly. They were the 'stop fighting it' eyes that I gave when a defendant was so close to confessing. The problem was, I didn't know what she wanted me to stop fighting – did I stop fighting telling her why my head kept disappearing into the clouds or did I stop fighting the urge to shove her into a wall and fuck her?

I doubted she wanted to know either.

"Oh no," I said, controlling myself with the famed Cabot finesse. I had not learned it until I was older, until after I had caused heaps of trouble. But, I had grown into my name, and I could, if I willed it, control myself. At least, that was what I kept telling myself even as it became increasingly tense in the little shop. "You can't use eye tricks you learned from me against me, Casey. I'm immune."

"You're not," she said, turning and walking out of the parlor. "I almost had you." That last, she called over her shoulder to me, barely looking at me as she said it, but giving me the impression that she was watching me completely.

Setting down the chocolate bar in my hand, I followed her out to the sidewalk, grabbed her arm, and did the one thing I never thought I would. She had broken my force of will as if it were nothing, and I don't think she had any idea what she was doing when she had done it. I felt her body thud against the brick wall of the building, her hands smacking the brick as she collided. I felt the vibrations of her bones ricochet through my body. I had shoved her hard. My mouth crashed on hers in the hurt me style. I could feel her teeth against mine. I knew based on the fact that my own lips would be bruised that hers likely would be, too. My body pressed tightly against hers. I could feel her heart against my own chest. It sounded in my own ears, coupled with my own rushing blood.

Damn it all to Hell. It was Sunday.

I stepped back, realizing what I had done. She stared at me, breathing hard, as though I had been depriving her off oxygen. Then again, I had probably winded her. The ice cream cone she had been nibbling at was lying on the ground where she had dropped it. I didn't remember it going anywhere, but it made sense that it had. I was breathing heavily, too.

I took two steps back. "I'm sorry," I whispered, shaking my head. "I'm so, so sorry." I covered my mouth with my fingers. I was shaking badly. "I need to go. I need to – Casey, I'm so sorry. Please, don't hate me." I kept shaking my head. I still could not believe what I had just done. "No, hate me. I –"

She opened her mouth to say something, but I interjected. "I understand, Casey. I just – I've gotta go."

Taking a deep breath, I praised God she had made me put on sneakers and shorts, and I turned and ran. I ran, images flying through my head that made no sense to me as an adult, images coupled with the idea that Casey would hate me. Technically, not only could she nail me for battery if she wanted to, there was a sexual harassment element in what I had just done, too. And, a large part of me would not have been surprised if she pressed charges.

So far outside my limits of control, I ran to the subway station and took the train home. Part of me wanted to want to throw up, but I didn't. I didn't feel ill at all except for the fear that I had violated Casey in a way no one ever ought to be. A kiss was different than rape, but something like that, like what I did to her, was still not okay. It would never be okay. And, in doing that to her, I had not only branded myself for hurting her, but I had marked her as well.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Aww. You all know me too well, don't you? :)  
_

**_Chapter Seven: One Step Behind_**

I nearly panicked when Casey called in on Monday. She had called Jack and just let him know she would not be here. She did not call me, and when we had parted ways the day before, she had seemed fine except for what I had done.

Sleep had been non-existent the night prior. I had lain in bed, tossing and turning and managing to twist myself in my sheets completely, but sleep never came. I replayed the afternoon in my head over and over again. Like the truly guilty, I had tried to convince myself that it had been okay, that she had been hinting at something with me all day, but that did not separate the fact that permission had not been given and nothing explicit had been said. She could have just been teasing me, or she might not have even been aware the effect she was having on me. How I felt was my problem, not hers. Except that I had made it her problem.

I had plans to apologize, to ask her if she was doing okay, to let her know I would put in for a different unit if it would make her feel better. I felt like an idiot and an asshole. I had expected her to be angry, to tell me that I had crossed a line. It seemed like it would have been more in her nature to confront me, but she was not at work. And, she was absent Tuesday and Wednesday as well.

By her Thursday absence, I was considering dropping by her apartment just to make sure she was okay. But, my guess was that she needed her space. I had violated her space once already. I really did not need to do it again.

"Marla," I questioned as I frowned at Casey's empty office. "Did Casey tell you what's going on by chance? I'm worried. She's been absent a lot this month."

My secretary looked up at me, lips pursed. "She's absent a lot each month, Alex," she chided. "I think she must have a sick family member she takes care of or something." Worried, my brow must have pinched because she clicked her tongue at me. "She's always on the phone with doctors, Alex. I'm sure everything will be alright. Why the sudden concern?"

I shrugged. "I'm just worried about her cases," I lied.

Of course, Marla would see right through that. "Uh huh," she said. "Office." She pointed to my office and followed me in making me feel like a little kid about to get punished. Closing the door behind us both, she gave me a hard look. "Alex, did something happen between you two? I know you've been nicer with her of late, and your office door is open much more frequently. You're becoming a team player which I think is great, but I've had to stop and wonder why."

I must have been staring just a little too hard at my feet because the next thing she asked me was very nearly accurate. "Did you mess up?"

Nodding, I sighed. "I think I did," I answered. "I don't really know. I had been hoping to discuss matters with Casey, but she's out today."

Marla looked at me and sighed, her hands on her hips as she stared at me. "You remember that advice I gave you when you first started working the felony docket?"

I nodded. "Don't get intimately involved with coworkers. It was your number one rule."

"Have you?" I shook my head. It was only a half lie. And, she must have figured on that because her next question was "Do you want to?" And, I learned a long time ago to never lie to Marla. She would know it in a heartbeat, and she would be on me about it. I leaned up against my desk, my hands holding onto the wood tightly. "You do. Alex, Casey's a sweet girl, but she's your coworker. If anything awkward happens between the two of you, it'll roll over into work, and that can damage both her cases and yours."

"Tell me about it," I grumbled.

"Something happened," she concluded. "It's none of my business exactly what, Alex, but I doubt that whatever happened is the reason Casey's not here. She's absent a lot anyway. It may not even correlate."

Biting my upper lip, I nodded. "Yea, you're right. I'm just being an idiot."

"Yes, you are," Marla agreed. "Nothing Casey has is doing anything tomorrow or early next week. She does have a motions hearing next Wednesday. If she's not back by Monday, you might want to prep for that. Otherwise, it's a good week for her to be out. Maybe she planned it."

I shrugged. She called in sick, so I did not think that to be the case, but I appreciated Marla's efforts. "I have a ton of paperwork to do on my cases," I said. "Thanks for the pep talk, but I better get on that in case I do need to attend her hearing Wednesday." I slid into my chair behind my desk, shaking the mouse on my computer to wake it up.

I spent the next two days completely engrossed in my office work. Monday morning, I was called by the detectives on my way into work and wound up diverting to the squad room. I did not even know if Casey was at work. I spent most of the day there, watching a perp interview, offering legal pointers when the need arose. Usually, they did not call one of the attorneys in unless it was a major suspect – or, unless he came with his own attorney.

This one qualified as both. The son of a senator. My world was going to be interesting Hell the next few weeks until the media forgot about it. Jack would want every 'i' dotted and every 't' crossed with such precision it wouldn't even be funny. If I landed with this case, Casey would have to take a couple of mine not set out for a while and just baby them. If Jack stuck her with it, I would have to do the same for her. Either way, it was not a big deal, but if the man in the hot seat really was the perpetrator, then Casey and I would probably wind up co-chairing the case which put me as automatic lead being the more senior ADA of the two of us. I would put money that Jack would sit us both with this one.

"What do you think, Counselor?" Don asked as he turned to face me, Olivia and the new detective, Nick something or another, still grilling him. Amaro. He was a transfer in from the narcotics division since Stabler's retirement. I had not really met him except that morning. In fact, until that morning, I didn't know Don had chosen someone. There was mention about one other detective, a female, who was supposed to be starting from somewhere out of state. I did not ask for too much detail. I figured I would get it when she got there.

Sighing, I shook my head. "I think I'm in for the legal battle of my career," I said, nodding to the attorney in the room with him. Brian Archibald was notorious for winning his cases. None of the ADAs liked him. He was vicious and crude which one needed to be as an attorney, but he slaughtered everyone if he could, victims included. It was often more traumatic to be questioned by him, I thought, than to have to tell the story over and over. "But, you said you've got DNA, her ID and statement, and an alibi for him that doesn't check?"

Don nodded.

"Book him in," I murmured. He really had not given up much in the interview, but Archibald would never allow for that anyway. "He'll be out tomorrow. I wish I could hold him remand, but judge is going to want to set bail. For no priors, senator's son, politics sake, any judge will set a bail. Best I can probably do is a half million and surrender passport. I still don't know about the money part, but it doesn't matter because any amount, Daddy can bond."

"You sound so hopeful, Alex," Don sighed. "Well, it's a start. We'll tread carefully."

"Good idea." I unfolded my crossed arms and sighed. "If you don't need me-"

"Yea. Thanks for coming out. We wanted to make sure this was overseen appropriately."

"You know I'll probably offer a plea."

"I was hoping you wouldn't say that."

I shook my head. "You know it's not because of the challenge. I live for the challenge. I dread the thought of putting Stacey up on the stand to be crossed by that hound. He'll break her in half and enjoy every moment of it."

"An attorney as bad as his client?"

"Aren't we all," I quipped.

At the office, Marla was already on lunch when I walked in, her desk empty but for a few files she was updating for me. I noticed a couple of Casey's folders on there, too, so I opted to knock at my coworker's door. "Come in," Casey called.

I pushed the door open. "Hey," I said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. "I, uh, I'm glad you're back."

She smiled at me. "Just a cold. I'll get over it." Her office was dark, as it usually was, and in the light from the computer screen, I could see the bags under her eyes. Common colds did not usually knock people out of work for a week. Plus, I could not remember her sniffing, sneezing, or coughing the Sunday prior to her absence. Whatever had hit her had been hard, fast, and long. Well, longer than I normally saw my office mates out for a cold. "You were busy this morning. I didn't see you."

"Yea," I said, opting to not call out her questionable excuses to her absence. I thought it was the same as the last time she had been out. Or, wait – had that been the flu? "Detectives picked up Andre Bishop."

"Uh oh. Senator Bishop's son?" I nodded. "Shit."

I smiled. It was not the appropriate time to smile, but her saying 'shit' was about the most comical thing I had seen that week. The smile faded almost instantly, though. I was not exactly feeling like I had the right to be smiling about anything she said or did. Granted, that she was talking to me about work was more than I thought she would. "Yea. More likely than not, we're going to co-chair this one. Is that okay?"

"I don't see why it wouldn't be," Casey answered me. She looked so tired. I just wanted to hug her and tell her it was going to be okay. But, I had messed that up. It would not be okay.

Nodding, I stepped back. "Great," I said, grabbing for the door to pull it closed behind me so I could head to my own office.

"Wait, Alex," Casey said, standing. "Uh, I missed last week's outing. So, can we plan for tomorrow? I got tickets for the Met. It's Madam Butterfly. You'll have to explain what's going on to me and tell me how to dress. I've never been to an opera before."

I stared at her, dumbstruck. Not only was she still wanting to pick up like we had never left off, but she was trying to do something she thought I would enjoy and have experience with. To me, that was mind boggling. "Casey, I – you don't have to. You're a competent attorney. Your confidence is growing. Plus, well, we don't have to honor the deal we made if you don't want to."

She shook her head. "I want to, Alex. It's not even about the deal. It's just about going somewhere, being a tourist in my own city, and having someone to go with who actually enjoys experiencing the world."

Hugging myself, I shook my own head. I had thoroughly enjoyed spending time with Casey. Part of it was the going out, the doing, the experiencing outside of work. Part of it had been that my company had been Casey. "I don't think I can, Casey. Not after –" I stopped talking, unsure how to phrase it. That someone would set me at a loss for words was unusual enough, though in regards to the situation I had found myself in, it was not among those which I had planned. I was accustomed to losing control because of someone else, not because of me.

She bit her lip, standing and coming around her desk to me. "Alex, you're still talking about the ice cream shop. I'm not worried about that. What happened happened, and if you really wish it didn't, then that's fine. We can go on forward from here. I don't want to stagnate. I think you're a good person. I like going out and doing whatever."

"How are you so nonchalant about everything?" I asked, not really understanding her. It was definitely the mystery of it all that was part of my lust for her. That much, I knew from my previous escapades. Once someone to whom I was solely attracted to in a sexual manner was no longer a mystery to me, they lost their appeal. It had been that way since I was seventeen, out every night with a motorcycle riding bad-boy wanna-be. It really did take me some time to grow into my name.

She reached behind me and closed the door. No one was in the halls to hear, but I could understand her want for discretion. Actually, need, considering the conversation Marla and I had the previous week. Sighing, she leaned against the door for a moment before moving as if aware that I might want a quick out. She let me be between her and the door, but she leaned on her desk, her arms folded around her stomach. "Alex, what was your intent kissing me?" she asked as she tried to meet my eyes.

"I don't know," I whispered as I did my best to dodge the green emeralds. I could not escape how exhausted she looked. From her voice and her stance, this was not a conversation she wanted to have, though it was one we both knew would need to happen. The sooner, I guessed, the better. Especially since she did not want to condemn me for it.

"Okay," she said, and even in the barely lit room, I could see her biting her cheek. I thought she had lost some weight, but since she was wearing a blazer and pants whose style was intentionally loose, I could not quite tell. "What was your intent kissing me the way you did? I mean, Alex, that kind of force was enough to make my lip bleed." Casey picked at her lower lip as if to say that where she was pressing her fingers was where my forceful kiss had sliced her lip open.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Physically or emotionally. I don't know what I meant, but it wasn't that." My lips had bruises where my teeth had pushed against them for days afterward. I really had powerhoused her. It was something I knew I could do. Jim and I had kissed like that, with pure need, but I had never been the forceful one with him. He had been the powerhouse with me. I always had the capacity to kiss him back like that, but never the desire. Maybe that was why he and I had fallen apart at the same time Robert and I did.

"You're avoiding the question, Counselor," she chided, and I caught a glimpse of those eyes looking up at me from her slouched position. There was a fire in them still, despite her lethargy. It was a kind of hardness that I expected from her when I had only seen her at work. But, having seen her in a more private atmosphere, I had realized Casey was a lot gentler. She wore her heart on her sleeve, and I was beginning to recognize even when at work she sometimes struggled to not bare her soul. I was beginning to believe that it was that character trait that had landed her in the place where she had managed to get herself suspended in the first place.

Shaking my head, I sighed. "I don't know, Casey. I just had this overwhelming urge, and I lost control. I pushed, and I didn't mean to hurt you. It won't happen again. Do you forgive me?"

After a moment, she nodded. "You threw me, Alex," she whispered. "For someone who says she doesn't work out, you are deceptively strong." I cringed. I had used a lot of force against her. Far more than would have been necessary, but, looking back, I thought I was frustrated, and when I was frustrated and throwing a fit, I tended to be dangerous. Usually, I was only a danger to myself, but that had not been the case at that moment. "But, I'm not as innocent as you think I am, Alex."

That caught me off guard. I quirked a brow, frowning at her. "What does that mean?" I asked, though I thought I was beginning to understand. She was going to try and reassure me, to release me of blame, but that did not matter. I had too much resting on my own control. To be out of control terrified me. If I lost control, then I was more aggressive, more violent. It was not how I liked to be. I did not feel good afterward. And, I usually did things I genuinely regretted. I had been volatile my entire life. My parents had invested thousands of dollars in therapy and anger management courses for me from late elementary school on for me to learn to control it. Me out of control was rare, but it was scary. And, I had lost a great deal of it that afternoon with Casey.

"You've been treading the waters with me, and I know it. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate the staring. Awkward, but it makes me think I'm pretty when I don't feel all that beautiful at all." I wanted to tell her she was drop dead gorgeous, but I kept my mouth shut. Evidently, I had some deeper issues to work out. Marla had noticed which I expected. She had known me since I started in Sex Crimes, and she was exceedingly observant. But, Casey as well? That was, as she had said, awkward.

She rubbed her arms which made me wonder what it was she had to be so nervous about. She was definitely in control in the room. Not only was it her office, but she had stripped any semblance of control I had away when she told me she knew I had been watching her. "I'll admit, feeling your eyes watching me in court has been kind of an ego boost. It helped me to pull myself together when I was struggling with a witness. I appreciated that. But, I never would have thought you to be attracted to the fairer sex. You keep it under wraps really well. The basketball court was the first time I think I really knew."

I said nothing as she sank into one of the chairs in front of her desk. Feeling awkward still standing, I lowered myself into the other and pressed my lips together. The way she was looking at me told me that she still had more to say and that she was not planning on letting me talk until she was well and truly finished. So, I made it easier on both of us. I didn't speak. After all, I had been the one to make it difficult in the first place. "I'm not innocent, Alex. I know what lust looks like. I deliberately laid my head on your chest so I could hear your heart beat. I know what the hitched and deep breathing means. I know what the dilated eyes mean. I knew, I especially knew, when your voice changed tones. It shocked me at first. I had been hoping you would just approve of me as an attorney, but I realized you were looking at me as a physical, sexual human being. I teased, taunted, and drew you into that."

"Don't blame yourself for what I did," I said, shaking my head. "Casey, it doesn't matter whether or not you thought I was sexually attracted to you. Please don't try to excuse what I did."

"I'm not," Casey said, her voice suddenly stern. I bit my lip and sank against the chair, staring at my lap. "My point is that you didn't do anything that needs to be forgiven. I goaded you into reacting. You reacted. We're both at equal parts to blame, so stop being sorry." Her voice quieted to a whisper so that I had to look up at her, to watch her lips to make sure I was hearing everything correctly. "What happened, it can't happen again. I can't kiss you again."

I nodded, thrilled that she was not going to hang this over my head. I knew she was not a manipulative woman, not with mal-intent, but I had worried a little that she would want to be in separate units. I would not have minded that, but SVU was our shared passion. I would leave before she did, but it would kill my heart and soul if I did. She was right. She had no desire to be a politician. She had let me control the power in the office, and she was handing me back the reins I had dropped when I had freaked out about my own actions at the ice cream shop. "Of course not, Casey. I will absolutely respect your space."

She stared at me like I was missing something big. But, then, she just smiled and shook her head. "I know," she mused. "So, about the Met?"

"You still want to go?"

"I wouldn't have invited otherwise. Come on, Alex, please don't make me go alone. A show of faith that we can both move forward?"

"Alright," I agreed. "Tomorrow."

She smiled. "Great. If we leave straight from the office, we can grab dinner."

"You're just adding more to this, aren't you?"

She just smiled.

"Fine," I said, "Dinner as well."

It wasn't until nearly nine o'clock that night, still curled in my office, that realization hit me like a train. At first, I did not understand why my brain thought it was important. It was the memory of Casey telling me that she had made a career of words: she spoke very deliberately when she did. She did not pick the wrong words. That was something she had been very specific about, as if she had wanted me to be permanently clear on the topic. I stared at my computer screen without really seeing it for several minutes before I realized why that was so significant.

I leaned back in my seat, my jaw slack, eyes wide. I had been the one to insist I would not step out of line again. She had been the one to say that she would not kiss me again. My hand floated to the back of my neck. I had not noticed until I had showered the previous Monday morning that there were scratches on the back of my neck. I had assumed they had come from basketball. But, the little half-moons would have been a perfect match for nails. They were gone a week later as I traced my fingers over my neck, searching for the marks in my memory bank, but I thought about that afternoon. I thought about shoving her hard into the wall. I had heard her hands smack the brick. My teeth had grated against hers. I had been so focused on the body beneath me that I had forgotten about anything else.

And, as I considered it, I could remember that for a brief instant, her hands left the wall. One clung to my hip, pulling me close. I had gotten so close I could feel her skin beneath her clothes, her heart in my chest. She had not pushed me away. She had pulled me closer as if, in that instant, she wanted to absorb me into her. Her other hand had grabbed at my neck, her fingers digging in, bringing me down as she pushed herself up, me into her, her into me. She had not been pushing me away from her. She had been pulling me closer, egging me on.

Casey Novak had kissed me. No holds barred, kissed me.

The weight of the realization crashed down on me, and I found myself crying even though I did not know why I was crying. Cabots did not cry, but, then, I wasn't really a Cabot, was I? Everything she had pushed at, hinted at, goaded me with just fell on me. She had told me in the most subtle of ways everything that I needed to know. But, it wasn't me she said could not pursue her. She did not want to pursue me. And, at that moment, I had far more questions than I had answers. But, the loudest of all as I sat on the floor of my office crying was why?


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: So, this one made me a little sad. Let me know what you think. I'm still on the fence about this one. Thanks. :) _

**_Chapter Eight: Standing Room_**

Madam Butterfly was in Italian as I had expected it to be. It left us at the first intermission, Casey unwrapping a stick of peppermint bubblegum, looking at me like I had grown a second head. "You understand that?"

I shrugged. "I know the whole play almost by heart, Casey. I grew up on this one. But, yes, I speak fluent Italian. My – it was the language that I first heard as an infant." I ground my teeth together and glanced around me at the milling people. Some of them, I knew. I walked the same circles in my private life. Others, I did not, but I could if I wanted to.

"Alexandra?" a voice behind me called, his accent thick and full. "So good of you to grace us with your presence." It was a tease, one I had heard a lot as a child growing up.

Turning, I smiled. "Anton, you surprise me. You still grace this country with your presence."

He chuckled. "I'm still a diplomat, Alexandra."

"As ever," I said of the Ukranian man. "How is Dasha?"

The man gestured over my head. "She is well. We brought the grandchildren to their first opera. Marnie and Igor sent them over for the summer, and I do so enjoy having them around."

"You were always good with children, if I recall."

He chuckled. "And, you were a vicious one. How are your parents? I haven't seen them lately."

Biting my lip, I shook my head. "My mother died a couple of years ago. My father hasn't been the same since. He doesn't much care to get out."

A large hand fell on my shoulder. "My condolences to you both, Alex."

I covered his hand with mine and sighed. "Thank you," I said.

"Now, tell me who this dashing beauty is at your side."

It was my turn to chuckle, albeit awkwardly. "Anton, my pleasure to introduce Casey Novak. She is a coworker of mine."

"Though no less beautiful," the large man said, taking Casey's hand and kissing her fingers gently. The man was in his fifties, looked to be in his forties, and still had the energy of a thirty year old. His father had been a diplomat as well, and I had met him through my parents. Anton had been my almost babysitter on more than one occasion. But, he had enjoyed it. I gave him Hell. "Where are you working these days, Miss Cabot?"

A woman wrapped her arms around Anton's side. Comparatively, she was much smaller than him both in waist size and height, but I knew from the look she gave him she loved him deeply. Two young boys were at her side. I estimated them to be four and three, and they looked up at me with the same eyes their grandfather had. "Niki, Dmitri, say hello to Miss Alexandra and Miss Casey."

"Please to meet you," the eldest said. The youngest just stared up at us both.

I crouched to their level, shaking each of their hands as if they were adults. Clearly, this pleased them both because their eyes lit up as they shook my hand. "Pleased to meet you, too."

"I'm Dmitri," the eldest continued. "That's Niki. He doesn't talk much." Dmitri shook his head.

I looked at Niki and offered him a gentle smile. "That's okay. It's good to meet both of you. You have very good manners."

They both shook Casey's hand as well. "Are you enjoying your first opera?" Casey asked.

Niki nodded. Dmitri shrugged. "It's kinda boring," he said. "The singing is pretty, but it's just a lot of singing." Casey laughed; I had to fight to contain my own snicker.

We stood around and talked for the next ten minutes. It was mostly conversation about politics, the Ukraine in the fall, and other almost but not quite personal things. I had known Anton almost my entire life, so personal things had come to be discussed between us but never in a public venue. And, not just for my reputation, but for his as well. One never knew what ears might be listening in, and if those ears were attached to mouths that could not keep secrets, then it could compromise security, reputation, and politics in a heartbeat. It was a very fragile balance involving a lot of backroom dealing, but I was familiar with it. Fortunately for me, either Casey was a quick study or she was, too. I wanted to know more about that, but not in the middle of an opera house. Later, perhaps.

And, later did come to pass in a coffee and tea house that was busy enough to not be overheard but not too busy that we could not find a table. "You know some of the most interesting people," Casey said as she drew her feet up on her seat and cradled her coffee to her chest. "How did you meet them?"

I smiled. We had also run into Marcus Hol, a prominent civil attorney known for making big industries bend to his will; Tanya Lynch, my first ex-girlfriend and daughter of Senator Brian Lynch who was probably going just as many political places as her father; and Luis Anderson, a playwright and actor that I met in my undergraduate years who had done well enough for himself; plus, all of their accompanying family and friends. "Here, there, and everywhere," I answered. "Anton dated my nanny when I was a child, but my parents knew his as well. When I was in law school, I interned for Marcus' firm. Luis and I met in undergrad school. Tanya and I dated."

Casey nodded. "Wow. Impressive."

"Where did you learn to blend in so well?" I asked.

She quirked a brow at me. "You mean how did I not give away that I was from an uncultured background?" she asked me.

I sighed. "Okay, that came out wrong, but that's not what I meant. Besides, look at the neighborhood you spent most of your life in. It's the same one I spent the beginning of mine in. But, look at all the people who never got out of the area. Why are we different?"

She took a sip of coffee. I think it gave her time to think about her answer. "My father was an officer in the military. It helped. But, they also found out I was smart from a young age. I got a scholarship to a private school and to NYU. I was accepted into Harvard Med and Law. I got lucky. What about you? How does a Cabot start off in a neighborhood like that? I thought your family has owned vineyards for decades."

I bit my lip. Great. Open mouth, insert foot. I could not save myself for anything. "I wasn't always a Cabot," I answered.

Her mouth puckered into a little round 'oh' as she nodded her head. She did not ask anything further, though I was pretty sure she had a pretty decent picture painted in her head already. I was chronically moody when discussing my past, and I think from her previous statements, she already knew something had happened. Clearly, being adopted at five is not the usual time for an entirely happy adoption. Children that old usually have a history. And, I had a history.

"I'm sorry, Alex," she said, her hand falling on my arm, soft, gentle, and warm.

I smiled. "Everything happens for a reason." I wasn't so sure I believed it, but it sounded good. It sounded like something I should say, especially considering Casey was one of two people I worked with regularly who knew I had not been born a Cabot. The other, ironically, was Detective John Munch. I had no idea how he came about this information. Maybe it was his conspiracy theories, but he figured it out. To say I hid the information would be inaccurate. I did not. I just usually did not talk about it. My history never came up at work, never came up with the detectives. I had spent more than one night up all night with Olivia, but a crisis of information had never been my thing. I had accepted long ago that I had been a foster kid and there was nothing I could do about it. Or, at least, that was what I told myself when I had a bad day.

She smiled at me. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you are where you are today, and if being adopted meant getting you here, with me, then I'm glad for it."

"You're a sweet liar, Casey, but thank you." I gave her a soft smile. It was genuine, and I knew I did not smile like that often enough. She brought out the best in me. And, the worst.

"Not lying," she countered, though she offered no supporting evidence. I would just have to trust her on it.

"Can I ask you a very personal question with the expectation that you'll tell me it's none of my business?" I asked.

I watched her bite her cheek with the sudden realization that she was still too pale, still too skinny for having merely had a cold. Like a brat, I had shrugged it all off to drugs. She had plenty of reason to abuse prescription narcotics. I knew plenty of ADAs who did. But, in getting to know her, I realized it was not that she abused any kind of drug. But, it did leave me wondering, if Marla was right and she was caring for a sick family member, was she neglecting her own care to such a heavy extent? "Okay," she said, the word drawn out, as though she were not certain that she wanted to give me the go ahead.

I almost told her to never mind, but that was outside of my typical nature. It was outside of my nature to be so gentle about things. Usually, I was direct about what I wanted. At least, I was when I knew what I wanted. But, still, I felt like I were violating her privacy to the utmost extent, and that did not sit too well with me. Nevertheless, I wanted to know, so I would suck it up, grow a pair, and asked. "What's really going on that you're out so much?"

She inhaled deeply, exhaling slowly. "Can I counter?" I nodded. "Why are you only now interested?"

I flushed. "Wow," I mused. "Well, now I feel like a bitch." But, she had a point. I had tried my hardest to push her away, to make her feel like she was less than human. And, despite that, she had pushed back at me in an attempt to make me feel more human. I did not think her intent was how I viewed her. She forced me to re-examine myself. I sighed. She was actually waiting for a reasonable answer. "I care about you, Casey. Our going out may have started as a business transaction, but I like to think that we've surpassed that into friendship. It's probably none of my business, but what I should have asked was – is there anything I can do to help you professionally or personally while you're on leave?"

With a serene smile I doubted I had ever seen on an attorney before and did not think I would ever see after, Casey shook her head. "No, Alex. I'm fine. I appreciate the offer. It's just that when I get sick, I get sick. Nothing too troublesome. I still get a lot of work done from home. I just email it to Marla. She makes sure the court gets it for me."

I nodded. "She's really great about that."

"A Godsend," Casey agreed.

I frowned, glancing across the table at my coworker. "You promise to tell me if there's anything I can do to help?" I asked. After a moment, she nodded. "Casey, I mean it. You can call me. I hope you will."

"I will," she said, smiling at me. Her eyes went blank for a moment as she looked away, watching over my shoulder. I turned to look, but nothing was there. "What?" The way she was looking at me told me she really had no idea why I might have turned around.

I glanced back at her. "Nothing," I lied. "I thought I heard a familiar voice." That settled it for me. She was hiding something. I held my tea cup close to my chest, feeling the heat absorb into my body. "I should probably head out, Case. I've got paperwork before I even go to bed tonight."

She chuckled. "Alright. Thanks for the afternoon, Alex."

I smiled. "Thank you, Casey." I winked at her as I stood, setting my cup in the dish tub. I liked a coffee shop that used real plates and cups for customers not planning on leaving with their drinks. It gave the atmosphere a little more homey feel. I liked homey.

By the middle of October, Casey and I had spent a lot of time together after work, not counting the case we co=chaired involving the senator's son. That was just its own breed of special, and neither of us enjoyed that case. The detectives had their after case rituals, and we came to have our own. It involved a lot less alcohol and a lot more coffee. We stayed at the all night café some Fridays just talking shop until one of us could no longer stay awake long enough to hold a conversation. Two law school graduates accustomed to pulling all-nighters – that was a Hell of a conversation.

We were able to maintain a decent friendship as well which I enjoyed. Neither of us mentioned the ice cream shop, though we also did not visit it again. Casey was absent between seven and ten days each month, and by October, I felt a little more comfortable in approaching her about the subject.

By approach, of course I mean that I stopped by her apartment with soup. I approached the building security desk and held out my ADA badge. "I'm looking for Casey Novak. Can you tell me what apartment she's in?"

The man looked over my badge and raised his brow. "She's in three fifteen, but she's not in. I can tell her you called on her."

I shook my head. "She's sick. I'm just bringing her things."

The man shook his head. "She's not in. Hasn't been for about three days. I'll tell you what, though, Casey's got the same badge which means you're a coworker. She'd kill me if she knew I told you."

Hands on my hips, I stared at him. I could physically feel my eyes grow colder. It was a trait I'd held since I was a small child. "Told me what? She won't know where the info came from."

He chuckled. "You don't know Casey very well, do you?" he asked, shaking his head. "Or, you tried a bluff. She's quick. She'll know. But, she's at St Michael's."

"Cathedral?" I asked.

"Hospital."

My eyes must have been a little too wide and my skin a little too pale because he actually darted out from behind the desk to me, a hand out as if to prepare to steady me should I need it. I did not. I took a step back. "She's that ill?"

He shook his head. "Nothing that can't be fixed. Why don't you go down there and say hi. Ask her if I have permission to feed her rabbit. Name's Lucas Bryant."

I nodded, a little dumbfound. "Alright. I will. Thanks, Lucas."

The entire cab ride to the hospital, I was numb. I was numb asking the receptionist what room she was in. For several long moments, I leaned up against the door frame of ICU sixteen. Casey was as white as the sheets surrounding her, her eyes closed, lips parted just a smidge. Her red hair framed her face in curls. Her hands were resting on top of the sheet, an oxygen meter attached to her index finger. It looked like a small snake ready to swallow her whole.

She was as tall as me, but in the hospital bed, she looked so tiny and fragile. I could tell that the hospital air had made her skin dry. Her lips were dry, too, and I licked my own lips out of feeling need. Carefully, I made my way into her room, making sure that I did not wake her until I was leaning over her. Even then, I pulled my hair back in my hands so my hair did not brush her skin and wake her.

Maybe I had managed in the past few months to act the part of a good friend, but I had worked so hard on sorting myself out. I still lusted after her from time to time. There existed in me this powerful urge to fuck her. Not have sex. Fuck. It was carnal. But, what had been fostered on our nights out, our afternoons spent with her trying to teach me and me failing miserably to learn to play softball, our weekends at brunch, was an ember of passion. I no longer solely wanted to make us both hurt. There were times that I wanted to hold her, rock her, kiss her, and cuddle her body into mine. I wanted to protect her, shield her heart and mind.

And, it was with that ember that I leaned down, my lips barely touching hers. Her lids fluttered and she gasped. Her eyes opened and she looked up at me. This was why she stopped me, stopped us. She was sick, and she knew it. I wondered what it was. My guess was AIDS because it was the most obvious, though how she would have contracted it, I had no idea. Still, nothing else really came to mind. And, despite all of the facts about HIV transmission and that I knew I could not get it from kissing her, I had to wonder if she had pushed me away on that point because she was afraid I would believe the hype. "Hey," I murmured, my voice quiet. "I missed you at the office. Thought I'd come check up on you."

As her eyes dodged over my face, I was afforded the chance to look closer at them. They seemed to miss me and then flick back to me, as if she were struggling to continue to see where I was. "You shouldn't be here," she whispered, but her fingers around my wrist seemed to me a plea to not leave her. "I, uh, I'm just here for a little while. I'll be back at work soon."

Her skin seemed like glass as I ran my fingers over her cheek. "I know. You always will be." I smiled at her. "Can I get you anything?"

She shook her head. "Wait. Yes. Hold me? It's so lonely here." I watched tears form in her eyes, and I crawled on top of the bed sheets beside her. Using one arm as a pillow, I curled the other over her stomach, my face against her shoulder. She pressed my hand between hers, rolling my joints absently. I had noticed that she did that when she was thinking about things we were not talking about. At the movies one evening, my hand had disappeared from my own lap to end up in hers. I had not really understood what she was doing, but I knew, on some level, that it was helping her, like a security blanket.

"Are you afraid?" I asked her as a tear escaped her eye. I brushed it away with my thumb as I moved my hand from under my head. I lay with my head on my upper arm, my fingers playing through her hair. She shook her head. "It's okay if you are, Casey. I won't leave."

She said nothing, just turned her head so that I could feel her breath tickle my neck. Eventually, her breathing steadied and deepened, and I knew she was asleep. Still, I did not move. I felt like I had been hit with a semi-truck, and it was going to take a few moments to get me back into my own skin. I had known she had a secret of some kind. I had not expected it to involve being in the ICU at St Michael's Hospital.

A nurse came in to check on her. Besides asking me who I was and if I needed anything, we did not speak. She let me continue to hold Casey while she checked her vitals. The only person I crawled out of the bed for was her doctor, and even he and I had exchanged hard looks.

"Can I ask you something, Doc?" I said as I curled in the chair and watching him inject her IV with something. He nodded. "Can you explain to me what's going on with her? I don't understand it."

He looped his stethoscope around his neck after listening to her breathe and looked at me. "Casey's got a partial T-cell defect. T-cells are what help our bodies fight off infection and illness. Her body can still fight off illness, but not nearly as well, hence partial. A common cold, for her, can turn into pneumonia in a couple of days. Anything severe gets amped up."

"Like AIDS?" I asked.

"Can have the same effects, but it's not a virus. It's a genetic mutation, and we're not sure what caused it. It's congenital meaning she was born with it, but it was more manageable until her diagnosis of diabetes three years ago. Diabetes is another autoimmune disorder, so now her body's taking double the damage to itself because of itself."

"So, she's here all the time because of the simple illnesses, the kinds we get and don't even really notice."

He nodded. I shivered. "She's chronically anemic which doesn't help. Plus, she has optical neuritis which means the nerves in her eyes are swollen. It's not all of the time, but flare ups happen. Both are probably more related to the diabetes than the T-cells, but the T-cell defects have not helped her situation any."

"She's partially blind," I mused, placing my hand on Casey's as she slept. Her skin felt dry and cold, the way, I thought, all skin feels in a hospital. No one can be warm in a hospital.

"Not all of the time. Just sometimes. And, it's unpredictable when. Chances are, it'll progress to full blindness within the next two to three years if not sooner."

I looked up at the man, tears clinging to my eyes. A part of me hated that I was about to cry. Another part of me understood why. In the months that we had spent together, even as a friend, I had come to care for Casey as a human being, yes, but, more importantly to me, as a friend. How else I looked at her probably did not help the unusual emotional reaction from me. "What about her lifespan?"

"Shortened," he said, looking at my coworker sadly. "Considerably shortened. She was lucky to make it to thirty. Forty is pushing it. Fifty is out of the question without some serious medical intervention that might degrade her quality of life. But, we're taking it one day at a time and seeing what's going to happen."

Ignoring the man in the room with us, I crawled back on the bed. Screw him and the rest of the world. In the periphery of my mind, I heard him leave the room and pull the door closed. I had not said I was anything special to Casey, but they must have figured I meant something important to her because no one was telling me I could not touch her or lay with her. I wasn't about to correct them. Suddenly, I felt like I was losing someone that I had not even had the chance to know.

I pulled Casey closer to me and buried my face in her hair. She smelled like hospital, but beneath the sterile smell, I could smell her Sweet Pea body wash and lotion and her Honeysuckle shampoo and conditioner. "You can't run from me that easy, Novak," I whispered. "No one gets under my skin like you do."

I could not tell if she was awake or asleep, but she snuggled closer against me, and I wrapped my arms around her back tighter, holding her there. She moaned, lying against me, her hand resting on my hip. I had never had anyone fall asleep with my arms around them before she did. Usually, they had their arms around me, and they were the first to pass out. Something about Casey being in my arms, though, made me feel safer. It made me feel better knowing she was safe because I had her. I might not have been able to protect her from her body, but I hoped I could make things comfortable for her. Part of me, too, a small part that was not very noisy and did not speak up too much, hoped that now that I knew, she would stop running.

I wanted to say that I knew she was sick. I had seen her in the ICU. And, I still kissed her. Still held her. The doctor told me what was happening to her, and I still crawled onto the bed and wrapped my body around her in a way I had never encompassed someone before. The disease, the likelihood of death, had not sent me running for the hills. Maybe I could prove to her that there was something to this ember I found inside me. Maybe, we could foster the ember in her that allowed her to kiss me back, that enabled her to ask me to hold her, and that let her fall asleep pressed flush against me.

Maybe. I didn't know, but maybe.


	9. Chapter 9

**_Chapter Nine: Six of Clubs_**

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," I said, breathing out slowly. No one really knew it, but I was nervous before a trial, especially a big trial like the one I was prepping for. Archibald presented a delicate problem in both Casey and my typical win streak. Not only that, but Andre Bishop was the son of a senator. No one liked that level of discomfort. Fortunately, on the other hand, people did often enjoy watching politicians squirm. It was a sick, twisted world we lived in. "I'd like to start by thanking you for sitting through this trial the past two weeks. What you've heard, seen, hasn't been easy. But, it's that image, that gut wrenching fear that you saw on the stand yesterday from Kiera Whitely that I want you to keep in mind as you're considering your verdict because those are the images Kiera has to live with the rest of her life."

Pursing my lips, I closed my eyes. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," I began again, opening my eyes to stare at my ceiling. "I'd like to start by thanking you for your time and consideration in this trial over the past two weeks." And, so it would go on, likely well into the night. I never did get sleep the day before closing argument.

Fortunately, Casey's health had remained mostly stable for the two weeks of trial. It was a good thing not only for her but also for me because I needed someone else there to jot down notes and help me remember as well as point out questions I had not thought of. We had returned to avoiding the matter of my spending the day with her at the hospital and the fact that I had now kissed her twice. I think my intent was clear, though I had not confirmed it.

Really, I did not mind going after her. I was frightened, though. Not that she would die or become more ill or need to be cared for. These were things that, while they saddened me, would not detract from the obvious attraction I had developed for her – a thing which still befuddled me though no longer irked me so much. I was more afraid of her continuing to reject me. I was afraid to bring up my kissing her and whether or not she wanted a relationship for worry that she would tell me she did not. If she told me I was not her type or that she preferred men over women, I would have been okay. If she told me that she did not want a relationship because she was sick, well, I did not think that I would do too well handling that one.

Sighing, I started over from the beginning, aiming to get my wording just precise and memorize it without seeming to memorize it. That was the sparkly trick. Everyone on the jury knew I knew what I planned to say. Trials were one part law, two parts story telling ability, and three parts acting. If I seemed to be pulling my words, then it meant that I was passionate, horrified, and genuine, even though everything was memorized.

My phone rang, pulling me out of me thoughts and into reality. "Cabot," I answered.

"It's Liv. Can you come down to the station?" the other voice on the end of the line told me.

I rolled off the bed and stood up, stretching. It was still early in the evening, so I had been laying down in a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt. "What's up?" I asked, wondering how much I was going to have to change. If it was no big deal, then I was going to put on jeans and a nicer shirt. If it were a defendant or an attorney, I needed to pull on a skirt and blouse, and I did not want to do that. No matter how put together I may have seemed on the outside, I was a sucker for stretchy pants and a tee.

"Need legal babble," someone else chimed. It was a voice I did not recognize well, so I guessed it must have been Amaro. I hadn't realized I was on speaker phone, but it didn't matter much. "Why else bring in an attorney?"

Nick Amaro was proving to be a good detective, but his sense of humor made me want to smack him sometimes. Not hard. Not in a mean fashion. Just smack him because he could be obnoxious. Still, he was a good cop. He fit in well. I still had not gotten a good read on the other new detective, though, Amanda Rollins. She was a mystery, and I had a dark feeling a part of me would not like the secrets she contained – not from a personal view point, either. It was a purely professional thing.

"Shove it, Nick," Fin said, "That's not what she's askin' about. How do you ever keep a woman around?"

"She's in the military," I heard Nick mumble.

"Liv?"

"Whatever you're wearing now is fine, Alex. No one but us will know you're here."

"See you in twenty."

Hanging up, I changed into a pair of jeans but left my sweater on. Hair up, glasses on, out the door to hail a cab. Fortunately, about a half block from my apartment, cabs were fairly common. That was easy enough. I slouched down in the back of the cab and stared out the window. I never really asked for much detail over the phones, not since I had come back to life. I was suspicious of phones. The Marshals had drilled that into me. Some things just did not go away with time.

When I arrived at the police precinct, Fin and Munch were outside the building waiting. Since this was unusual, I was immediately on my highest alert. Something fishy was going on, and I had no idea what. I looked between the two of them, but they just smiled. No. Munch smiled at me. Fin stared at me a moment before raising an eyebrow.

"What?" I asked as he regarded me in that cool manner of his. "I have done nothing. And, for the record, it kills me that you still make me feel guilty about nothing."

He chuckled. "Come on. Cap's getting' all kinds of antsy on this one."

I followed the two detectives into the elevator and rode up with them to the third floor. Until a year ago, SVU had been on the second floor, and I still sometimes forgot and pushed the button for the second floor, sometimes finding myself in the middle of Missing Persons before I realized what I had done. By then, the detectives there were fairly accustomed to seeing me. Usually one or two of them would point me back to the elevator before I even stepped off.

Walking out of the elevator, I was puzzled that the office area was empty. "What was this?" I asked. "A plan for a mass evacuation procedure?"

"They're probably plotting in Interrogation One."

I rolled my eyes and stalked my way to the interrogation rooms, slipping into the hallway between them. Both rooms were empty. I frowned, turned to complain to the detectives, and found that they were not behind me. The door had swung shut in the hall, and I grumbled my frustration momentarily before yanking the door open, intent to give them a piece of my mind for dragging me out for nothing.

Stepping out into the precinct, I was faced with a line of detectives and another attorney. "Surprise," Casey murmured, small smile clinging to her lips. She looked worn out but content, her eyes warm as she watched me. I had to admit. I was surprised. "You didn't think we forgot it was your birthday, did you?"

"I didn't know any of you knew it," I admitted, chuckling dryly.

"We have cake and pizza," Amaro piped. I laughed, nodding. "What?"

"I appreciate this, guys, I really do, but I have a closing argument to –"

"Don't even. You've been practicing since you walked out of the courtroom today. I know you've got this memorized already. You can spare an hour for a mini birthday bash," Casey argued. "I promise to listen to your closings as many times as you want me to after to help make up for the lost time." She smiled at me. I caught Fin looking between the two of us, brow raised. It told me a lot of what I needed to know. This had been Casey's idea, and it was sweet. Not really the Casey any of the detectives knew, but definitely the Casey I had come to know.

Sighing, I gave up. "Deal," I said.

Casey beamed at me.

We all spent the next hour and a half devouring pizza and cake, chatting about things that normally did not get discussed during work hours, and generally laughing. Neither Casey nor I had anything to drink – the fear that it would impact our performances the following day too real to slip even once – but the detectives passed around beers. No one was drunk, but, at one point, Amaro was on the floor imitating a worm, and I could not figure out why. It had to do with a conversation I had not been a part of, but it was most curious.

It was a tired look Casey gave me that made me think it was time to part ways. Selfishly, I needed her at her best for the last day of trial before deliberations. More compassionately, I wanted her to be able to get some sleep. "Thank you all for this. It really was sweet, but I should head out. And, Casey, I believe you promised me an audience." I smiled.

She nodded, standing. "See you guys tomorrow," she said, nodding to Munch and Olivia who were lead on the Bishop case. They would be in the court room for closing arguments if they could make it. It was kind of tradition. Plus, I knew both wanted to be there for verdict.

"I should head out, too," Nick said, tossing the empty beer bottle in his hands to the trash. "Go tuck Zara in." From all counts, he was a good father, and I thought it was sweet that he still wanted to be home to tuck his daughter in. Elliot had been that way, too. Home as often as he could to tuck the little ones in bed. It had to be difficult, being a parent and doing this job. The things we heard and saw changed our views of the world. I knew the whole squad was a little jaded, a little more jumpy than the rest of the population. We noticed the man on the subway and wondered what type of violence he was capable of whereas others either did not notice or thought nothing of him if they did.

Casey and I grabbed a cab. We offered to share with Nick since his neighborhood was on the way and neither of us minded a detour. "You can even get a sneak preview of closings," Casey teased, though it was obvious she was exhausted. My heart went out to her.

Laughing, Nick shook his head. "In that case, I'll take the subway. No offense, Cabot. I like the surprise."

I waved my hand, shooing him off. "None taken. Get home safe."

"You two as well."

I held the door open for Casey, and she crawled in. Once I was in as well, she rested her head against my shoulder, her eyes closed, though just barely. I could tell she was still listening.

"Where can I take you tonight?" the cabbie asked, giving us both a grin through the rearview mirror. I thought it was kind of a creepy grin, the kind cats might give to mice when they're cornered and about the be consumed. It was the paranoia that came with the position we had, though I don't think Casey noticed, what with her eyes closed.

She rattled off the address of the café we both usually haunted, and the cabbie nodded, pulling away from the precinct in that direction. I watched the roads as we went, Casey still cuddled against my shoulder. The chill of December was finally settling in with snow in the forecast coming up in the next week, just a week and a half before Christmas. In the eleven months that we had worked together, it had been a rollercoaster of a relationship both professional and personal. And, I had no idea where it would go from where we were.

In truth, I wasn't even one hundred percent sure I knew where I wanted it to go. Not knew. I had a couple of ideas, but I had my own trepidations, and the night at the precinct had shown me as much. It had occurred to me that I had no idea what the detectives would think. Certainly, if I pursued Casey in earnest, it would come up through work. I could no longer be her supervisor. Not legally. Not by policy. Inherently, it would put one of us in a different unit. That was not fair to either of us. Or the cases. Jack had said it best. Casey and I took beating after beating and still kept crawling back for more. We were gluttons for punishment, and, when it came to sex crimes, we were the only two.

Casey nestled her face against my neck. It took me a moment to realize that her breath so hot against my skin meant her mouth was open. "Uh," I said, blinking. My first thought was that she had fallen asleep on me. "Hey, um, can we actually head to a different address?" I asked. I gave him Casey's address with the intent to drop her off and make sure she crawled into bed.

I would swear in a court of law that my intentions were innocent. But, the hand on my thigh and the lips on my neck were not. Her mouth moved along my jaw in tiny kisses. "I don't want to go home," she whispered, but even in the whisper, I could hear the slur. She had not had anything to drink that night. With her medical issues, it was rare she drank anything at all. Why she was slurring was beyond me. Except, that I feared, it might be a symptom.

"Casey, are you feeling alright?" I asked, pulling her hand away from my thigh and holding it on her knee.

She nodded her head a couple of times. "Just tired," she murmured.

"Yea," I said. "Well, we'll get you in bed. You need a full night before tomorrow. Closings and all." I looked her over. I was getting accustomed to the bags under her eyes and the pale skin, but she seemed off more than usual. Stroking her hair away from her cheek, I ran my fingers over the skin there. "You coming down with something? You were here all November. I'm surprised how long you have been okay."

She fluttered her eyes up at me, rolling her head against my chest. "I'm fine," she said. "Nothing sleep won't cure."

"Have you been sleeping?" I asked.

"It hurts," she whispered. "When there's nothing left to focus on, the pain is too much."

I stroked her hair. "Casey, are you out of meds?"

She shook her head. "They don't always work." I wondered if it was more of a burden or a relief for her to know that I knew. On one hand, she had someone she could talk to if she needed to unload who wasn't a medical professional or therapist. On the other hand, my emotional reaction to her, no matter what my reaction would be, was an added stressor in her already stressed life.

I massaged her hand, unsure if I would cause more pain. "Are you hurting now?" I asked.

"A little," she admitted. "It's not too bad now."

"How bad does it get?" I asked. In the month and a half since I had stumbled across her fragile, drugged, and sick in the hospital, I had asked a lot of questions. Sometimes, she did not seem to mind some questions. The other times, she did not answer me. Still, I hoped my growing understanding of her limitations was more helpful than embarrassing. I was beginning to recognize when she needed sugar. If things were heated, I still missed it, but I knew after an adrenaline kick, she needed something. And, strangely, in our line of work, there were a lot of adrenaline kicks. Not the same kind of adrenaline kicks in law enforcement, but we had our own. I had also taken to storing mini Snickers bars in my office and in my brief case. Not that I didn't think she had something, but I was not going to hunt through her personal items if I had something in mine.

That question, though, was one of those that she did not answer. In some ways, that was an answer. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No," she murmured, shaking her head and staring out the window. I rubbed her arm with the backs of my nails, tracing little designed against her skin in silence. I wished there was something I could do, but I had no idea.

I tipped her face up to me, and her eyes rolled up through her bangs to match mine. "Anything you need, Casey, even if it's not physical –"

"Shut up," she whispered, interrupting me. I did. Her fingers traced my cheek bone, pushing my hair behind my ear. I heard her growl in frustration when it would not stay, so I tucked the errant strands away myself. She stared up at me, shaking her head. "I will never understand you."

Smiling briefly, I glanced out the window to see her building as the taxi slowed. "Come on, let's get you into bed." I paid the cab before walking behind Casey into her building, her hand loosely hanging on to the edges of my fingers, like I was already losing her.

As we passed the security desk, I smiled at Lucas. Casey had told me, back in October, Luke had permission to feed Bugs, her rabbit. She asked me to double check, though, and make sure the rabbit looked happy. Apparently, Lucas did not have any sense of animal ken. Mine was probably worse, but I had agreed, and Bugs and I had become close. Or, as close as I could get with an animal that I was ridiculously afraid of. As long as he was in his cage, I was fine, but the moment that bunny was dropped in my arms, my heart rate accelerated. I was convinced I was either going to drop him and break him or he was going to bite me and I was going to fling him and break him. Either way, things were not looking good for Mr Rabbit.

"Come up with me," Casey mumbled. "Just for conversation. I won't sleep anyway."

"I have closing tomorrow."

"And, I promised you could practice on me."

I looked at her, shaking my head. "No. Case, I can see the hurt in your eyes. You're in pain. I'm not going to make you suffer more."

She glanced at her watch. "Still an hour before I can take another pain pill. Please. Humor me?"

"Alright," I said, nodding. I had no idea how me reciting closing at her was going to help take her mind off of pain. After all, it was all about pain. It was about fear. It was about the things Kiera would live with the rest of her life. And, since she was only sixteen years old, that was going to be a long time.

I sat on Casey's couch, coffee cup in my hands, going over my closing argument with her. She curled on the opposite end, attentive for the most part, though I could see her eye lids flutter from time to time. She was tired. "Casey, don't fight sleep to listen to me. Go to bed. I'll see you in the morning." I almost chuckled at the fact that I was chastising my coworker for not going to bed. It seemed strange.

She smiled, reaching over to take my coffee cup. "Fine," she murmured. "Let me at least walk you out."

I shook my head. "I'll make Lucas keep me company while I'm waiting for a cab, Case. You try and get some sleep."

"If I weren't so tired, I'd argue."

"Then, we'd argue until you were too tired to argue anymore," I chuckled. She just sighed. "None of that now. To bed." And, I almost kissed her. But, I didn't. I stayed on my best behavior. "And, Casey?"

"Hm?" she asked, her lids already low.

"Thank you for today."

She smiled. "I got a cupcake and flowers on my birthday," she mused. "Don't act like you don't know who put it there." I gave her a Cheshire grin.

My hand closed over her wrist without my conscious intent. I pulled her close, and she did not resist, her body flush up against mine. "Just one kiss," I whispered, my tone a promise that I knew I did not want to keep despite my conflicts about actually asking her on a proper date.

"They never stay just one," she warned, but she did not pull away, so I pressed my mouth against hers, holding her body tight to mine. She was so soft and warm. Despite her indomitable spirit, I could feel how fragile her body was beneath my hands. Tanya and Leslie, my only two ex-girlfriends, and the only two girls I had kissed had always felt like they were holding back. And, with Casey pressed up against my body, her lips slightly parted, her hands on my neck and back, keeping me close, I caught a glimmer of what they had been keeping from me. It had been vulnerability.

I traced Casey's upper lip with my tongue, earning myself a positive response and the crack between her lips grew. Once, I had kissed her hard enough to make her bleed. Another, gentle enough to wake her softly. This time, I was kissing a woman who was meeting me half way. I could taste her on my tongue, smell her shampoo and body wash. I could feel the stabbing lust in my stomach, but it was not as consuming as it could have been, had been around her.

Biting her lower lip gently, I pulled away from her. She was crying which explained the strange sensation I had felt on my cheeks. I pushed my thumb over her cheeks, her green eyes darting all over my face. "What's wrong, Casey?" I whispered. Somehow, talking at a normal volume just did not seem appropriate.

She looked at me, and I became acutely aware of the fact that her arms were wrapped around me, her body still pressed against mine except for just enough space for me to really get a look at her. Her hands moved up my back, around my neck, and over my cheeks and jaw, her thumbs resting on my lips. I could not help it. I opened my mouth. Her thumbs slid over my teeth to the first joint. I bit gently. She closed her eyes.

She gasped as my tongue found the tips of her thumbs, flicking against them quickly. Releasing her fingers, I stepped away from her, my lips pressed tight together. Her eyes still held mine, but only for a heartbeat. She looked confused and hurt and needy all at the same time, and I had no idea what I was actually seeing and what I wanted to see.

"The attraction's mutual, Casey," I murmured as she glanced away. I was unable to understand how and why she pulled away every time I went to step closer. But, then, my steps closer weren't exactly consistent.

She shook her head. "I can't," she murmured.

"What's stopping you?"

"Forever," she whispered.

I brushed the backs of my fingers over her cheek. "If that was a problem, Casey, I wouldn't have kissed you just now. There's no such thing as forever. Not on earth. You are so willing to go out and live at every available opportunity. I've spent the last eight months with you, learning things I never thought I would learn and doing things I never thought I would do or do again." I chewed my cheek. "I don't know, but doesn't it seem a tad hypocritical to live in every other aspect only to shut yourself out of exploring relationship possibilities?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I can go to the zoo, Alex. I can go ice skating. I can teach you basketball and softball. I can go to the opera, buy cheap cameras and hop a tour bus and pretend to be tourists from the west coast with you all we want. But, to me, a relationship is seeing if forever works. If forever is not an option, it's not fair to be in a relationship, for either party."

Tracing my index finger over her lips, I shook my head. "I know forever isn't an option. But, what about for now? For the present. Tomorrow – Hell, Casey, the sun could explode tomorrow and we'd all be dead. I don't want anything you don't want, also, but when I kiss you, you kiss back."

She pursed her lips, her fingers nervously dancing over her shoulders. The tears were falling in earnest, and I realized that this was probably the last thing she had ever thought she would allow herself to do. "I can't."

"Casey," I started, pressing my hands over her hands so that she would not worry her shoulders with her nails. "Have you ever been on a date before?"

Not looking at me, she shook her head. "I was diagnosed when I was just a toddler with the partial T defect. It was after I had been hospitalized six times in two years for relatively minor things. The doctors knew then it would cut my life short. I get something severe, and it'll kill me even if it wouldn't kill you. I, um, uh, realized that, um, I didn't much care for boys when I was in high school. I didn't have the nerve to break my father's heart, so I just didn't date."

I nodded. "Does your father know you're a lesbian now?"

She nodded. "He's okay with it. My whole family is. I, um, it's just bad enough that I'm not going to be around for their major life events or those of my nieces and nephews. To be in that situation with a partner, Alex. I couldn't do it."

For a few seconds, I thought about that. I could understand her fear, but no one ever really knew when they were going to die anyway. She was thirty five. She already had some intense, as far as I was concerned, complications from diabetes. Maybe she would not be alive to see her forty first birthday the way I had been that day, but that, to me, did not mean it was fair of her to not be exposed to romance. I got myself into so much trouble dancing that dance, but even the heart break, I would not have traded for the memories. But, that was what gave me pause. The heart ache. What if it didn't work out? I wasn't so sure what I expected, but I did not want to break Casey's heart.

My hands followed her arms down to her hands, and I held them up between us. "Casey," I started, a little unsure of myself. Yet, I spent so much time with her anyway. Between work and our outings, I would have thought I would have noticed if there were something so heinous about her that I could break her heart. But, the reality was, the more I got to know her, the more I wanted to know her. We were easily able to hold natural conversations with each other about just about anything. Even when our belief systems clashed, we could still debate civilly. I was too old to worry about settling down. The long term no longer really appealed to me. "If – if I asked you to out and you weren't sick, would you say yes?"

She was stock still for a second. I almost could not see that she was still breathing. In fact, I think she might have held her breath. But, she nodded, still not looking at me. "Yes," she whispered.

I brought her hands to my lips, brushing my lips over the backs of her fingers. "Then, pretend, just for one date, that you aren't sick."

"I can't, Alex," Casey said. "I-"

Carefully, I stroked her fingers with my thumbs. "The offer remains on the table, Casey. Get some rest. I'll see you in court tomorrow."

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. I left.

I had thought about work. I had thought about her illness. I had thought about the short term and the long term. I had considered the fairness of her heart in all of this. I had not thought about mine. Mine, not only if she rejected me, but if she did not. If we were still together when she died.

The entire cab ride home, I cried. Maybe, it was better to just remain friends and coworkers, despite the obvious mutual attraction. Maybe that was the most fair.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Because you are all awesome. Also, not sure how much depth I'll be going into into either of their pasts, so... Yea.  
_

**_Chapter Ten: Queen of Spades_**

Day three. I was crawling out of my mind in the victim witness area at the court house. As a general rule, the ADAs stayed at the court house until a verdict was returned. It left Casey and myself in a room alone for three days, chatting about how we could have approached things better, recent politics, and anything else we could think of. I asked her about her pain management, and she shrugged. She had told me it was okay, but she was lying. The later in the afternoon is got, the more I could see it in her eyes. It was hurting her just sitting at the table talking to me. Because she did not give me much detail, I did not ask anything more on the topic.

I felt badly. I wanted to tell her I could make it alright, but I really had no idea. Had I the resources? Absolutely. Would she let me use them? Absolutely not. I didn't even know, though, if she could do anything more and still work. At some point, a certain amount of neurological intoxication meant that it was illegal to do legal work.

"It cannot take this long," I mumbled, running my hands through my hair. I had caught up on my other cases. Casey had completed hers. And, still, no word. "I don't think I can stomach a hung jury."

"You'll be okay if it is," Casey said, her head down, buried in her arms.

I glanced over at her before standing and flicking off the light, casting us both into near darkness. I heard her sigh with relief. "Thank you," she murmured. I heard her chair slide back, and I padded back over to the table. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I was able to make out the shapes better so that sitting beside her was easier. I still had to use my hands to feel around a little.

The silence between us was mostly easy, but I was left thinking about things that I had been able to avoid while we were talking, even if talking was merely me ranting about the world. I was not going to say anything, but Casey seemed to be thinking the same thoughts I was because her hand covered mine, fingers lacing between mine. For a few minutes, we sat in silence in the dark, her hand in mine on my lap. She rubbed her thumb over the knuckle on my index finger as though lost in thought. She played with my fingers whenever she thought of something far off and distant. I have no idea how that habit started or why or why I let it continue, but the fact of the matter was that it was not uncomfortable. It was clearly a comfort issue for her, and, even to someone like me who preferred hands off, it had become one that I enjoyed as well.

As per usual, I was acutely aware of the proximity of her body to mine. I could smell her, and it was a good scent. Familiarity was comforting, and in this time of anxiety, comfort was certainly a good thing. Biting my lip, I pulled her hand close to my chest. "Can I tell you something?" I asked.

She looked at me. "Yea."

"When I was six, I testified in a murder trial. I was the only witness other than the offender. It was the scariest damn thing I had ever done, still have ever done." In the dim light, I could see the confusion on Casey's face. "I remember the prosecutor on the case took me around the court room with him, explaining to me what everyone would be doing and where they would be sitting. He told me that he was going to have to ask me questions about what I saw and heard that night and how I felt. He also said the defense attorney would do the same, but his questions might be harder."

She had covered my hand with her free hand, sandwiching my fingers between her skin. I still struggled with that era of my life, no matter what I had told my therapist as a teen or what I told myself then. Casey said nothing, only offered her physical support as I worked up the courage to keep talking.

"I, um, I asked him if me helping to put my father in prison would bring my mother back," I said, and I felt the first tear slide down my face. Ignored memories had a way of hitting the body hard every time. "He, he told me it wouldn't, that nothing would." Using my free hand, I pushed the tears off my cheeks. "I just, the one thing that stuck with me from all of my talks with him was that he asked me if I loved my mother. I did. Of course I did. He asked me if her being gone changed that. It didn't, Casey. It still doesn't. She never got to see me grow up or graduate high school or go to law school. And, sometimes, I miss her for that. I wish she had been there. I don't believe in an afterlife, and there were days I was so angry that she was stolen from me. I still am, sometimes. But, just because she didn't get to see those stages in my life did not mean that what part of my life she was with me I regret. She used to take me to Amy's, and that's a memory I still have. I remember going to mass with her every Wednesday night and Sunday morning. It's vague, but it's good, and it's something I can hold on to when I miss her."

I felt her fingers pull my hair away from my face. Tears crept down my cheeks of their own will. I wasn't sobbing or making noise as I cried, just silent tears. Other than those professionals who had been involved in my childhood and my adoptive parents, no one really knew my personal history. My father had shot and killed my mother in a drunken rage one night while I sat on the couch and watched. He left after, and the priest from the church found me a day later still lying next to my mother, trying to get her to wake up. My father had not been a kind person. He was a chronic drunk who had beaten my mother regularly. His rage had, though less frequently, been turned against me if she were not home or was unconscious. But, my mother had been raised a very devout Catholic. She did not believe in divorce. She believed in therapy and had held on to the hope that my father would come around if she loved him enough. There were some mental health issues with her, too, but, for the most part, I had blocked them out. She had never hit me, never called me names, never had disciplined me inappropriately. When I was living with them, it was chaos because of my father, but I had never questioned my mother's love for me. I was in and out of foster homes, though, prior to my mother's death. I ran away a lot, ran to the church for mass the days and times I knew it would be going on. And, my mother would find me there, talk to me, hug me, and take me to the social services building to be returned to foster care even though I would beg her to take me home with her. I was closer to eight when I figured out why she kept letting me go back with the social worker.

She combed my hair against my neck, her fingers tracing my clavicles carefully to the notch in the middle. "You've already got a lot of loss in your life, Alex. How can you stand to have more?"

I smiled. "Because there's so much good that comes before the loss. I have ice cream for breakfast and church on Sundays and wishing on stars in the middle of the night and reading books under a blanket fort with a flashlight." In the semidarkness, her fingers traveled up my neck to my jaw bone. She traced that. I sighed involuntarily. Her fingers tripped their way up to my lips, then my nose, then along the bone just under my eyes. I closed my eyes. The light was not strong enough to be extraordinarily useful, anyway. The very tips of her fingers touched my eye lashes, and I beat them against her fingers in tiny, quick butterfly kisses. She found my eyebrows, followed them on a downward slope, diverting to my ears. She traced those back to my jaw, and I opened my eyes.

Hers were closed, her lips barely parted with concentration. She was memorizing me by feel. Slowly, her eyes opened, her fingers at my lips again. Carefully, she touched her fingers to where she looked, my cheeks, my nose, my eyes, my hairline, my ears, my jaw, and back to my lips again. "So I don't forget what you look like," she whispered, "even when I can't see you anymore."

"If you'll let me, Casey, I'll be there to describe the world to you. As a friend or a lover, but maybe as both," I murmured, taking her hand and pressing her palm to my lips. I didn't kiss her hand. I just held her there against my mouth, my warm breath colliding with her skin. She curled her fingers around my cheek. I pressed my face into her hand like a cat.

I heard the dry humor in her voice when she asked, "And for all the sleepless nights and all the tears from the pain? And when I can't go do things because I can't even drag myself out of bed that day, will you be there? Cancel your appearances at charity dinners or whatever it is you Cabots do? And, when you catch the flu, will you wear a mask, too, so I don't get sick? And, when I throw up, will you hold my hair back? Because, I do a lot of throwing up."

Pressing her hand against my face, I cuddled my cheek to her palm. "For every moment," I said. "Because, there'll be good moments, too. Moments where we laugh and cuddle and fall asleep in each other's arms. Moments when we celebrate the small things as if they were big. Moments where I can taste you in your kiss and I can give you all of me. I'm not saying anything would last forever, Casey. But, it would last for now."

She bit her lip. "And, if we break up? If you come to your senses and realize you can have so much more than what I can offer to you, our friendship will die out as well. I won't have a friend to go out with twice a week and do whatever we please. I'll be alone. And, it'll be all that much worse because I had you once. And, I lost you."

"There's no guarantee of that," I murmured. "There's no promise that we'll still be friends even if we don't date. There's no promise that we will end our friendship if we end a romantic relationship. There's no promise that we'll end a romantic relationship. But, why worry about so far in the future? Worrying about that, Casey, means that we're missing the present. Every opportunity we have is right here, right now. Not tomorrow. Now. You taught me that."

A knock on the door made us both pull apart. In the dim light, I caught Casey's guilty blush as she shoved her hands into her lap. "Alex, Casey, verdict."

We both jumped out of our seats like we'd been shot. I grabbed my bag and Casey her tote, and we headed back up to the court room. "Thanks, Rachel," I said as we bolted for the elevator.

The doors closed behind us, and she leaned over, her hand on my cheek as she whispered in my ear. "We'll hate each other," she whispered.

"No, we won't," I mumbled back.

"Yes," she said with a smile, her fingers following the buttons down my shirt. "We will. That's why it will never work out between us." She bit her lip, her hand falling to her side as she looked ahead, walking out of the elevator as if she had not just sent my blood pressure through the roof.

I wanted to grab her and kiss her, but I had promised the last time that it would be just that once. Casey had known that I would want more. I think she had known she would want more. But, a promise was a promise. Unless I could get something from her, I was going to play it cool.

We joined up with Munch and Olivia in the court room. "Drinks?" Olivia said. "I hope they put the son of a bitch behind bars, but either way, after all this, I'm going to need something. Three days of anxiety is sending me to the asylum."

"Yea," I said. "I know the feeling." And, part of it was that case. Part of it was the discomfort now growing in my lower stomach as I watched Casey as she settled into her chair beside me and twisted to join the conversation. It didn't help that for all her wanting to not go into anything more than friendship, I had no idea what the cab ride had meant to her. She had her hands on my thighs kissing my neck. Nothing quite screamed sex like that. But, then, I had to wonder, if that was all she wanted. Maybe it wasn't so much a relationship she was after. It made me curious as to what was on her to do list before she died. Did she even have one? Maybe I would ask.

We rose as the judge entered the court room and stayed standing as the jury trekked in. We sat, and I ignored the usual preamble, watching Casey out of my peripheral vision. She seemed calm and collected, but her eyes darted to me a couple of times, catching me watching her. She smiled coyly at the corner of her mouth, but her full attention seemed to be on the jury.

Not mine. I could not focus to save my life. How she did such things to me was beyond me.

I watched the defendant stand for the reading of the verdict. I held my breath as I watched the foreman stand as well. The judge read the charges. Following each charge, the foreman answered, "We, the jury, find the defendant guilty."

I deflated with relief when it was read guilty on all counts. Beside me, I saw Casey do the same. "Celebration drinks, it is," she murmured to me as she judge brought the court back to order. Smiling, I nodded. She glanced behind me, presumably at the detectives and nodded.

"Two weeks out on sentencing," I said as the court room cleared. "Not bad. That's plenty of time for us to put together a strong argument on maximum. So, it'll probably settle around twenty years. Not great, but at least that's twenty years he can't hurt anyone."

"It gives Kiera a chance to sleep at night, too," Olivia said. I nodded my agreement. "Anyone object to drinks before five?"

"Nope," Casey answered. "I can meet you there. I want to drop this at the office."

"I'll walk with you," I offered. "I don't want to bring my attaché with me, either. Plus, I am dying to get out of these heels."

Munch nodded. "Sounds good. I'll let the others know about the verdict. They'll probably come down, too."

"Never miss a good opportunity to celebrate," I said.

We parted ways at the front entrance, Casey and I hanging a right, the detectives going left.

I dropped my attaché in my office and slipped on a pair of ballet flats I kept behind my desk for just such occasions. I considered changing into the jeans and cashmere sweater I had brought with me, wanting something comfortable, but I decided against it. I glanced at Marla, giving her a thumbs up to indicate victory before going into Casey's office, collapsing in a chair by her desk. "You're okay going out tonight?" I asked her, knowing how drained she had been of late. She looked up from a drawer she was pawing through and nodded. "And, alcohol?"

"I'll skip on that, but Joe makes a good caramel latte. It's not just booze he specializes in." I chuckled. She would know that. She pretty much knew about every bar in the vicinity and whether or not it was worth her time, but she especially knew the cop bars. I speculated that it was so she could hide her worsening illness from the detectives. It made me wonder if she had drunk alcohol with them much before her diagnosis. I figured she probably had. "I doubt anyone's gonna mind. Or notice."

"Oh, they notice. They just don't say something all the time. Not until they can figure it out. These guys, they like to have the answers to the questions they ask before they ask them."

Casey smiled. "I know. They're good guys. I'll tell them, eventually. Right now, I don't want my life to be about being sick. I want it to be about other things like catching the bad guys."

"What about getting the girl?" I asked as I gave her a cheeky grin. I thought I was beginning to understand her, mystery and all, and if I played my hand right, then I would be okay.

She came to stand before me, her hands on the arm rests as she leaned over me. I could feel her breath on my face. Extra apple pie bubble gum. She had been chewing it since we left the court house. My heart hammered, and things low and sexual in me tugged and ached. Just when I thought she was going to stand there forever, she moved, her legs sliding up my legs until she straddled me, her hips nestled against mine. I could feel the warmth from her body as she pressed against me, and I was washed with lust and confusion all over again. Still, I said nothing in case there was more to this than I understood.

Arching her back, she brought her body up leaving my mouth just above her warm sex. I could smell it, and that killed me. But, it also made me realize something. She was turned on. I stopped fighting those carnal urges, and, gently, I kissed the clothed flesh offered to me. Casey sighed, clutching the chair on either side of my head.

Taking that as a positive sign, I trailed my fingers up her thighs, dancing along the cloth of her stockings and over her skirt like tiny fairies. My fingers danced their way up, over her buttocks and lower back, still over the cloth of her blouse. With a gentle tug, I brought her back to a sitting position in my lap, and she looked down at me, her head just over mine, lips hovering over mine. It took everything I had not to stretch up and kiss her, not to bring her down to me.

"What's your game, Casey?" I asked, my eyes flicking over her face. I bit my lower lip. She confused me, teased me, and turned me on all in one go, and I had no idea how much of it she was doing on purpose and how much of it was incidental.

She traced my cheeks with her nails. "I'm terrified, Alex," she whispered. "I want more from life. I want you from life, but I can't help but be afraid to go forward. I don't know what to do. I'll mess it up. I can't stand the thought of you not being in my life as my friend. But, when I'm around you, when I think of you, I can't stop. I can't stop wondering what it would be like to hold your hand with your fingers laced in mine or to go out on a date and kiss you at my door or kiss you any time I want to. I wonder, sometimes, when I do my hair in the morning if you'll like it better up or down that day or what you'll think of my new shoes. It's like, you've made it into a place in my head, and I can't turn you off or shut you out. Not that I want to."

"Then stop trying to," I murmured, one hand still gently on her back. The other, I used to pull her face closer to mine. "All you have to do is say go. And, you can say stop whenever you want."

Her eyes met mine, and I felt her body tense. Her breath was warm on my face, and I half way expected her to pull away again, to put that wall back up that had so recently come tumbling down. She surprised me, though, her body trembling slightly as though stressed to its limit. "Go," she breathed, pressing her lips against mine.

I pulled her close to my body, inhaling her. Her lips parted, more sure of themselves than they had been four days prior in the living room of her apartment when I had first officially put my offer on the table. I traced her teeth with my tongue, tasted that apple flavor from her breath. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest, my own heart finding the rapid rhythm and meeting it. Her fingers strayed down the back of my blouse, her fingers finding my skin, nails raking just lightly enough to send shivers down my spine. Those long fingers ran up over my shoulders, and up my neck where she held me as we kissed like rabid teenagers until she split from me, panting, her forehead against mine, eyes locked on mine.

"We're doing this?" she asked me.

I laughed, combing my fingers through her hair. "Yes, Casey. We're doing this."

Such a peaceful smile came over her face as she closed her eyes, sinking her head against my chest. "Good," she whispered.

I held her against me a few moments longer, enjoying the feel of her weight against me. She was like a hurricane, and I knew our relationship would be the same, but in that moment, things seemed perfect, the eye of the storm, perhaps. "We have detectives who are going to start to wonder where we are soon," I finally whispered.

"Let them wonder," she purred, snuggled against me. "I'm comfortable."

I laughed but pushed her to a sitting position. "Not the best idea, Casey. Besides, we got a verdict today for the victim. I say that's something to celebrate."

She laughed, raking her nails through my hair as she bent to kiss me lightly. "I can do this any time I want," she murmured, kissing me again. Little, light pecks met my lips, and I met each one, opening my mouth slightly each time until I could latch my teeth on her lower lip. I bit down softly and immediately let go, but she kissed me again, all while smiling.

"Alright, alright," I giggled. "Get up. We've gotta go."

Sliding off my lap, Casey leaned back against her desk. I stood up and straightened my skirt which had ridden up slightly before reaching over and straightening Casey's as well. Granted, I agreed with her on some level. Now that I could, I wanted to pull her against me and kiss her again. I felt so juvenile it was ridiculous, but the giddy sensation that had bubbled up inside me when she said 'go' would take a while to settle down. I knew it would because I had never wanted to be with someone the way I wanted Casey Novak.


End file.
